


Bury Us Alive

by moscca



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Enemies to Lovers, Force-Sensitive Hux, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moscca/pseuds/moscca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux and his hawk daemon Carmina have long been loyal to Supreme Leader Snoke, carrying out his orders efficiently and with pride. But after witnessing the extent to which Snoke holds power over not only his servant Kylo Ren but his daemon Acerbyx as well, Hux and Carmina begin to question the Supreme Leader’s true motives in relation to Ren. As Hux begins to assess the possibility that Snoke may not have the First Order’s best interests in mind, Kylo Ren grows increasingly unstable in anticipation of the mysterious next phase of his training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to cabinetchimera on tumblr for editing this! Participating in the KBB has been such a wonderful experience, and I'm so glad to be able to share the final product with you all. Hope you enjoy it!  
> Note: This AU is based off the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman. In these books, every human has a daemon, a physical representation of their soul in the form of an animal. These daemons are capable of shapeshifting until physical maturity is reached (usually in puberty), when they will settle on a permanent form that they hold for the rest of their lives. A daemon cannot go far from their human, and it is considered the highest taboo to touch another human's daemon, outside of a very intimate relationship. Separation between a daemon and a human puts stress on their intangible bond, to the point where it can be broken, leaving a human without their soul.  
> Title is from the STRFKR song of the same name.

Hux is 30, a freshly minted general, commanding officer of the largest flagship in the First Order and architect of the superweapon that will bring an end to all wars, when Kylo Ren of the Knights of Ren is unceremoniously dumped onto his ship.

He’d known better than to protest the decision; it’s only recently that he’s come into the Supreme Leader’s favor, and he’s not yet at the level of familiarity where he can question decisions handed down from above (he doubts there even is such a level, anyway). So he keeps a guarded, neutral expression on his face when the Supreme Leader begins to wax poetic about the Force abilities of the Knights of Ren, and how the First Order will surely benefit from their highest-ranking member being aboard the _Finalizer_. Hux isn’t certain he agrees, but he nods politely and assures the Supreme Leader that his Knight will be welcomed with all hospitality.

The only being to hear his complaints once the holo disappears is his daemon Carmina.

“Well, this should be interesting,” she quips from his shoulder, in the red-tailed hawk form that she first settled into when Hux was thirteen. “Hopefully this Force user won’t require us to babysit them. We’ve got better things to do.”

On the way out from the meeting chamber where Snoke projects his holos, Hux is saluted by a pair of Stormtroopers, their dog daemons trotting obediently beside them. He acknowledges them with a nod.

“From what I can tell, they’ll be functioning outside the hierarchy of the First Order, which is a blessing. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have to share a position with this person. Unless cooperation is their strong suit, giving joint orders would be a nightmare,” says Hux with a sniff.

The shuttle carrying the chosen Knight of Ren docks a few days later. Hux and Carmina are there, at the head of the group of officers he’d selected to attend the occasion. Purely for show, of course, but one must maintain decorum whenever possible.

The landing ramp extends, and Kylo Ren descends unaccompanied. Well, not truly so.

 _Is that a crow?_ Hux asks Carmina privately through their mental connection.

 _No, no, she’s too large. Looks more like a raven._ How Carmina can determine a daemon’s gender from one look, he’ll never understand.

Kylo Ren draws nearer, raven daemon perched atop his shoulder. A black mask, with layered metal bands curling about the eye region, covers the knight’s face completely.

 _And what are those supposed to mean, personality-wise?_ Carmina has always been skilled at identifying the daemons of others, despite the multitude of species that they can take form as. She claims to also be able to determine the personality traits often associated with them as the representation of their human’s soul, considering it her business as a daemon to know such things.

_Ravens are supposed to represent cleverness, foresight, and…vindictiveness, sometimes. I wouldn’t have expected a fighter to have one, they’re considered much more scholarly._

_Cleverness, hm?_

The masked Knight of Ren is nearly in front of him now, cloaked head to toe, his daemon the only thing marking him as human. Hux assumes he’s male; same-gender daemons are rather rare, and his imposing height would be unusual for a woman.

_We’ll see about that._

“General Hux.” The man’s voice comes out modulated through the mask. “I am Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren. And this is Acerbyx.” The raven daemon dips her head in greeting.

“Welcome, Lord Ren.” He’d conferred with Carmina previously and decided that “Lord Ren” would be an appropriate functioning title within the First Order. Firmly non-military, yet still authoritative. “I am General Hux of the First Order. This is Carmina.” He gestures to his daemon, who rests on his shoulder, mirroring Acerbyx’s position.

“We are honored to host you aboard the _Finalizer_. Lieutenant Mitaka will show you to your quarters.” The lieutenant in question looks less than enthused at his assignment. “If there is anything you should need, you can find me on the bridge at most hours. I look forward to a fruitful collaboration.”

Kylo Ren gives a brusque nod and, without a further word, stalks out of the hangar, Mitaka hurrying to catch up behind him. Several members of the personnel Hux had brought crane their necks to watch him go.

 _How rude,_ is Carmina’s opinion.

 _About what I had expected._ He turns to head back to the bridge, and the group of officers follow, whispering amongst themselves of the strange cloaked figure, now a guest of the First Order. Back at the bridge, Hux addresses them, hands clasped behind his back.

“As of now, Lord Ren is to be considered a permanent guest aboard the _Finalizer_ , as the Supreme Leader has given no date for his reassignment elsewhere. In exchange for our hospitality, he will be assisting us in matters relating to the construction of Starkiller Base.”

There’s a murmur at that, the mention of the almost mythical superweapon, which currently only exists in sketches and calculations. “Further details of the Order of Ren are of yet unknown to me, but their affairs are not ours. Let us function as efficiently as we always have.”

The crowd disperses quickly back to their stations, and Hux breathes a sigh of relief.

~

Hux decides, very quickly and within the span of a handful of interactions with Ren, that he frankly couldn’t care less about the Force, nor those who associate themselves closely with it. He’s aware that Snoke is a Force user, but the old alien at least has the courtesy not to bring it up every five minutes in such a worshipful tone that Hux wants to roll his eyes. Ren clearly has a flair for the melodramatic, refusing to answer straightforward questions in a straightforward manner.

For example, when choosing the planet upon which to build his beloved Starkiller Base, Snoke had instructed Hux to rely on Kylo Ren’s intuition, which had been one of his least favorite orders to carry out. Ren had been nigh-insufferable in the process, wielding his unearned authority like the crackling red weapon he carried at his side.

“Build it here,” he’d commanded, after an exhaustingly lengthy trip through the armpit of space, where Hux had been forced to accompany Ren down to each and every planet’s surface. Ren would then spend a scarce few minutes on the planet, pacing about and seemingly doing nothing in particular, before deeming it unsuitable for Starkiller Base. Eventually, Hux had grown tired of asking for a reason for the rejection of each planet, as without fail he would be met with some answer relating to the “will of the Force”, whatever the hell that meant.

“Are you certain this one is suitable?” he couldn’t help but ask, when Ren picked an isolated iceball of a planet. “The conditions here don’t appear to be optimal.” Carmina had shivered and subsequently tried to pass it off as a nonchalant ruffle of her feathers, fooling no one.

“I have foreseen its construction here.” Hux wanted to scream. He’d considered asking Ren if he could have “foreseen” this outcome perhaps five or ten planets ago.

 _Don’t get upset_ , was Carmina’s input. _At least he’s finally chosen something._ She’d been eager to be done with the whole business. Hux sympathized.

“Its proximity to the sun makes it ideal,” said Ren. Hux had been surprised he’d given a logical answer, for once. “And its hollow core will store large amounts of energy well, with little augmentation required.”

“And how did you know it has a hollow core?” They’d been on the freezing planet for less than ten minutes and had remained on its surface the whole time, as Ren stomped about in the snow.

“I sensed it through the Force.” Even with the mask’s modulation, Hux could hear the unsaid _obviously_. He’d bitten his tongue and forced himself not to retort, reminding himself that his greatest work was finally becoming a reality now, and no brooding, haughty knight could get in the way of that. They’d taken a shuttle back up to the _Finalizer_ , after which Hux began to immerse himself in the process of bringing Starkiller off of paper and into physical space.

These days, Ren is rarely present during the site’s construction. Hux almost wishes the man could make himself useful, maybe lift a few beams with the Force and save them some trouble, but Snoke informs him that Ren is off on a separate assignment, given to him by Snoke himself. Apparently the search for Luke Skywalker has kept him busy, though why chasing after a long-hidden and likely dead Jedi is a priority, Hux will never know. In the meantime, Hux runs the _Finalizer_ on his own, spending uncountable sleepless nights poring over plans, ordering supplies, and monitoring the activity of the Resistance, who as of yet are completely in the dark about the construction of Starkiller Base.

When aboard, Hux’s enigmatic guest tends to stalk the halls of the _Finalizer_ with no real detectable purpose. It sets the staff on edge, but Hux refuses to be intimidated. He’s yet to see the man without the mask, which he supposes is the point of such a thing, ridiculous though it may be. Still, his curiosity grows. It would be easy to write the man off as an overgrown, under-matured brute, and Hux is often tempted to do so. But it would be unlike Snoke to place a blunt weapon on his ship, or to spend such excessive amounts of time training one. Hux can’t help but wonder what sort of potential the Supreme Leader sees in Ren.

When their paths cross, Ren will sometimes attempt to engage Hux in conversation, in his own strange way.

“Can you feel it?” he asks, on the surface of the base as Hux oversees construction. “The way that this weapon will shape the galaxy. The lives it will take.”

“Of course I can’t feel it,” Hux sneers. “Those things haven’t exactly happened yet. This base is still a skeleton of what it will become.”

Ren slinks away, leaving Hux to feel oddly guilty. _He’s impossible to understand_ , he decides, before moving on to observe the progress of the nearest building team.

On another occasion:

“You haven’t slept in days,” Ren notes casually, as if discussing the weather (which, on Starkiller, never changes anyway.)

His observation is true, which only serves to annoy Hux beyond his existing state of tired irritation. “Have you been keeping track of my schedule, then?”

Ren shakes his armored head. “You’re projecting your exhaustion rather loudly. Your thoughts themselves are loud.” The helmet tilts to one side. “You should take better care of yourself, General.”

“Then I advise you _stay out of my head_ if you find it so unpleasant.” He turns on his heel to leave, but not before hearing Ren get in the last word.

“It’s not unpleasant,” he murmurs, his voice coming out staticky through the mask. Fuming, Hux strides away down some random hallway, eager to put some distance between his own mind and Ren’s.

 _There’s no need to be so rude,_ Carmina chides. _I think he might have been trying to show some concern for you._

 _I don’t_ need _his concern,_ Hux snaps. _And I don’t like the idea of him rooting around in my head._

_Afraid of what he’ll find?_

Carmina casts one look back at Ren’s quiet raven daemon, curiosity emanating off her in waves. Hux rolls his eyes and ignores her.

~

Hux’s father had always been of the opinion that arguments between one and one’s daemon indicated a lack of maturity and a deep insecurity, a viewpoint that had unfortunately made an impression on Hux himself. Brendol Hux Sr. had taken great pains to ensure that his son would never embarrass himself in such a way. Hux recalls, with some bitterness, how his father would personally interfere in his small spats with Carmina, sitting them both down to work through their differences in the most excruciating manner possible, his expression the image of cold disappointment.

His plan to drive Hux Jr. and Carmina together had worked, albeit not in the way he had expected: after every disagreement, they’d both been united in their mutual loathing of Hux Sr. and his cruel little snake daemon that coiled perpetually about his collar.

Hux had so resented the man that he’d insisted his own daemon call him by his last name, not the hated one he’d been given after his father. The name of Hux encompassed better people than Brendol Hux Sr., and he took comfort in that. Carmina had agreed immediately, relishing this small way of making themselves different.

Yet evidently Ren’s parents had not raised him in keeping with such principles, if the way he and Acerbyx are currently shrieking at each other is anything to judge by. Hux can hear him down the recently emptied hallway as he approaches, along with the telltale hissing and buzzing of recently destroyed electronics. This is not the first time Ren has taken out his frustration on the _Finalizer_ , but if Hux has any say in it, it will be the last.

“-told you it was a dead end, but did you listen?”

“Shut up!” comes Ren’s voice, modulated through the helmet, and Hux can hear his lightsaber take another slice out of metal, screeching as it goes.

“No, you didn’t, you had to go anyway, hoping to impress our master with your recklessness, and now we’ve failed him again!” Hux recognizes Acerbyx’s voice now. She sounds as though she’s really chewing Ren out. Good. Someone ought to be able to hold him accountable for his actions.

Ren swings wildly at the buzzing control panel as Hux rounds the corner, blind to his approach.

“-can’t _wait_ to be rid of you, you pathetic child-!” Acerbyx abruptly ceases her ranting as she notices Hux’s presence. Ren also pauses, lightsaber buzzing wildly from where his arm hangs limp by his side.

“Finished?” asks Hux. Neither man nor daemon respond. Hux wonders briefly what Acerbyx could have meant about being rid of Ren. Are the two of them really so self-destructive?

Ren breathes hard through his mask. He doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge Hux, though he’s not so far gone as to continue his rampage in front of him. After a few tense seconds, he powers the lightsaber down, straightening up slightly.

“I would say I hope you have a good reason for your thoughtless destruction of expensive equipment, but I’ve never known you to once have a good reason for any of the absurd tantrums you throw.” Ren makes as if to speak, but Hux makes a chopping motion with his hand, effectively cutting Ren off. “I don’t care what happened with Snoke. You were not placed on my ship to slash up consoles with your ridiculous weapon every time something doesn’t go your way.”

“It could be worse,” Ren dares to say, between heavy breaths. “At least I’m not cutting up your staff.”

Anger wells up in Hux, fluid and hot. “Lay a _single finger_ on any of my employees and I’ll see you off this ship so fast your fucking head will spin. Mark my words, Ren. I’ll remember this next time you requisition more of my troopers to go on some wild goose chase after a mythical figure who is most likely _long-dead_.” Hux stops, breathes. He’s moved closer to Ren in his rage than he typically prefers to be. “Go to your own private quarters if you’re still in need of walls to slice apart. And don’t come near any more consoles until you can control your temper.”

Ren is already stalking away to sulk, hands bunched into fists by his sides. His raven daemon gives Hux and Carmina a long look before flapping after him.

Hux stands for a minute in the wreckage, sending out a message to a team of technicians to come clean up this mess. He doesn’t even want to think about the cost of this particular tantrum, a loss he will surely have to account for, come next quarter’s bills.

“They really don’t get along, do they,” Carmina murmurs, head swiveling to assess the damage. “Do you think that’s why Ren’s so unstable?”

“Who knows,” Hux grumbles as he heads back to the bridge. “It’s not our problem if they can’t stand each other. It only becomes my concern when they bring innocent technology into their squabbles.”

The decimated console screens sizzle and pop as the pair hurry away, in the opposite direction from Kylo Ren and his daemon.

~

Time passes, and Starkiller Base grows ever closer to its completion, expanding upon its metal skeleton to bloom into a weapon as elegant as it is deadly. Simultaneously, as if by some balancing action of fate, the Resistance grows stronger, and its actions begin to plague the First Order. Like nagging gnats, they zip in to lay waste to whatever small footholds the First Order has managed to acquire, then leave as quickly as they came, speeding back home to their precious secret base. It’s tempting to divide the Order’s resources and send off parts of their fleet to directly combat the Resistance, but Hux prefers to focus on building the superweapon as quickly as possible. It’s more efficient in the long run- after all, where will the Resistance’s fleet run to when both their hideaways in the Republic and their still-secret home planet have been destroyed by Starkiller?

The Supreme Leader, however, seems to have different plans. He allows Hux near-total control over the construction of Starkiller Base, which Hux appreciates, for all his suspicion that the decision might just be out of complete disinterest on Snoke’s part. Nonetheless, Snoke insists on sending in troops to combat the Resistance on a multitude of fronts. This results in several successful raids and a disappointingly numerous unsuccessful ones. Naturally, Hux is the one who has to report these failures back to Snoke, and he becomes well-acquainted with the hologram’s variety of cold, dissatisfied expressions. Every time he considers posing a challenge, or even an alternative, to the Supreme Leader’s plans, all it takes is one disapproving glance from Snoke to change his mind. He knows the ways of hierarchy well enough to recognize when it’s wise to back down from a superior officer, though he doesn’t even know if Snoke has any military experience whatsoever.

Ren continues to disappear for missions and reappear unannounced back on the _Finalizer_. His behavior grates on Hux’s nerves as much as it concerns him; Ren seems to return from each mission more unbalanced than he was before, which is saying something. He roams dazedly throughout the flagship upon nearly every return, ignoring orders to check into medbay. Hux never learns exactly what the point of these missions is and assumes they’ve to do with some Force-related nonsense he would prefer not to hear explained anyway. It’s not his business what Snoke’s having his knight do, which he tells himself each time Ren returns to his ship. Hux greets him perfunctorily, rarely inquiring as to the success of his assignment.

This continues until Hux, on his way to the Supreme Leader’s holochamber, runs into Ren leaving it one day. He nearly passes him by without a word until he notices how slowly Ren is moving, favoring one leg over the other.

“Are you injured, Lord Ren?” He stops and turns to face the knight, not truly expecting an answer. Ren typically refuses help in his customary headstrong fashion, but Hux can’t have him bleeding out all over the halls of the _Finalizer_. It wouldn’t be good for morale.

Ren leans heavily against the wall, and Hux can hear his labored breaths emitted through the mask. “My mission…was not successful. My master has seen fit to punish me accordingly.” Acerbyx seems to be clinging to his cloaked shoulder with all her strength, now that Hux looks closely. He can feel Carmina’s displeasure at seeing another daemon suffer. She’s always been more sensitive than him in that respect.

“You mean to say the Supreme Leader injured you? But that’s only a hologram of him. Isn’t he miles away?” Hux had assumed the wounds were acquired on Ren’s quest; until now, he hasn’t known of anything or anyone on the _Finalizer_ capable of disabling Kylo Ren.

Ren stumbles away down the corridor and does not respond. Hux watches him go and is surprised at his own urge to follow Ren, if only to question him further.

“That’s a little concerning,” says Carmina, in a hushed tone. “I wonder what Ren did to deserve that.”

“No idea,” Hux murmurs. “But Snoke is clearly capable of doing the same thing to us if we fail him.”

It’s only then that Hux begins to feel two specific things: fear of Snoke, and pity for the peculiar creature that is Kylo Ren. Both are extremely uncharacteristic of him and even more unfitting of a general of the First Order.

As disquieting as such feelings are, he manages to brush them off and enter his debriefing with Snoke, fingers twitching anxiously at his sides.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s without a doubt the proudest moment of Hux’s life when Starkiller fires for the first time. All those years of work, finally coming to fruition right in front of him. His pride is dampened somewhat by the knowledge of the lives about to be lost, but he has long since weighed those in the balance of this war and found them a fitting sacrifice. Behind every great victory lie a thousand such sacrifices, and for a prize so vast as the ending of all wars, an equally large loss of life is to be expected. Even Carmina, who so often balanced out his ruthlessness with mercy, had agreed with him. She, too, wished to witness a universe in order at last.

He watches the beam of red light ascend, then split itself into five smaller beams. The nearby sun’s power had been transformed without a hitch, though it had both excited and terrified him in those few minutes when the energy had been held in the planet’s core, unreleased. But all the calculations had been run countless times, and the thermal oscillator had functioned perfectly.

Yet it is as if the same universal balance responsible for the rise of the Resistance had come into play after the elimination of the Hosnian System. Once Snoke gave the order to turn Starkiller on the Ileenian System, General Organa’s gnats had come calling to pick away at his weapon, with information they could have only obtained from that traitorous Stormtrooper. Ren, whose youthful, expressive face Hux had finally glimpsed when he’d interrupted a meeting with Snoke, had disappeared to investigate the landing of a Resistance craft on the planet’s surface not long before the assault began.

Now, against all odds, the planet is dying. And Ren is nowhere to be found.

The ground is already shuddering tangibly, spasming beneath his feet as Hux hurries to the Supreme Leader’s chamber, having already made the emergency call on the holo channel. Carmina flies ahead of him, white-speckled wings beating frantically as she swoops from corridor to bridge and back to corridor. Hux is conscious of her scarcely-controlled panic and tries desperately not to let it affect him, even as the result of years of planning and thousands of work-hours enters into its dying throes. Hux will be damned if his professionalism fails him in this most trying of times.

The Supreme Leader’s hologram is already present when Hux strides into the chamber, close behind his daemon. His great scarred face betrays no emotion, not even the expected disappointment or anger. Around them, the walls of the chamber are already crumbling, and Hux jumps to avoid one sizeable hunk of durasteel crashing to the ground, missing him by inches.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux starts, desperately willing his voice not to waver, even as his stomach threatens to turn itself inside out with grief and despair. “The fuel cells have erupted. The collapse of the planet has begun.”

Somehow, the mere act of saying it makes the truth that much more terrible to face.

Yet Snoke does not react at once, and Hux feels a flash of fury for it, towards this cold and uncaring leader who seems not to care that the First Order’s most powerful weapon is crumbling apart in a matter of minutes.

“Leave the base at once,” Snoke says, in that cruel monotone, “and come to me with Kylo Ren. It is time to complete his training.”

For once, Hux is grateful for the chance to bow. It offers him an excellent opportunity to erase the raw outrage from his face and school his features into some semblance of order. He leaves at once.

Carmina is angry, too, which is a welcome, if temporary, break from her previous terror and anxiety. Even as the pair hastily make their way towards the hangar, she rants directly into Hux’s mind, nearly incoherent with emotion.

_How DARE he! After all we’ve done for him, he can’t even pretend to care about our Starkiller! No, his precious little trainee takes priority, of course, despite the absolute mess he’s made of everything. Blast these shortsighted mystic bastards!_

Her thoughts then devolve into fragments of _all our work_ and _wasn’t our fault_ and _it’s all coming down around our heads now-_

Hux, for his part, is silent, save for an odd buzzing like white noise in his ears. He considers, for a moment, leaving Ren behind to teach his master a lesson. _Perhaps he should keep better watch over his toys if he doesn’t want them damaged._ But it would then be Hux who would suffer the consequences, and Snoke’s fury is not something he will risk, especially not after seeing how he’d punished Ren for his failings. And in truth, for all Hux’s frustration with Ren and what he represents, he still doesn’t want the man dead.

The hangar is in a state of chaos when they reach it: ships are being rapidly overloaded with officers and troopers fleeing the dying planet. The shapes of the Stormtroopers’ dog daemons flit in and out of the crowd, baying in panic as their humans try to secure an escape. It all registers much more faintly than such disorder normally would in Hux’s mind. Thankfully, the crowd of personnel still has enough respect to part for him and Carmina, hastening him to an Upsilon-class command shuttle.

Hux heads directly for the controls, allowing about twelve Stormtroopers to board before retracting the ramp and initializing the sublight ion engines- the ship can fit a maximum fifteen, but he predicts they’ll need room to accommodate Ren in whatever likely grave condition he’s ended up in. Within moments, he leaves behind the madness of the hangar and takes the shuttle out, over his imploding superweapon, soon to become a new sun, erasing all traces of Hux’s ambitions with its birth.

“Hurry, Hux,” Carmina whispers, and he steers the ship through the heavy snow towards the coordinates of the blinking red dot on his holopad, indicating the tracker attached to Kylo Ren.

~

It’s Carmina who sees him first, her keen eyes scanning the snow-laden trees, which judder and snap with the violent motions of the planet below.

“There, Hux, in the clearing!” she cries. The Stormtroopers behind him murmur as Hux searches the landscape for what his daemon has sighted. And then he does spot Ren, or what looks to be him- more a red and black smear than a figure at this distance, really. There seems to be a disproportionate amount of red to black, the crimson flaring out from Ren’s fallen figure and staining the snow all around. Something disgustingly akin to concern rises and settles as a lump in Hux’s throat.

One Stormtrooper finally takes the initiative to help Hux land the cruiser as close to Ren as they can dare, more fissures erupting in the frozen earth by the minute. Ren is barely in view and appears to be curled on his side- Hux can’t see Acerbyx from this angle.

The icy wind hits Hux hard as he hurries down the landing ramp. Carmina takes flight from his shoulder, maneuvering the air currents impressively as she makes her way over to Ren.

_Hux, it’s bad_ , she murmurs into his mind. An iciness grows in his stomach that cannot be attributed to the snow whipping about.

_Bad_ is only one of several words that could describe Ren’s condition when Hux reaches his crumpled form, staggering through the snow. _Exsanguinated, gored,_ and _likely near death_ are a few others. The most visible wound is the massive slash across his features- he must have lost his helmet somewhere along the disastrous timeline of the day’s events- but that couldn’t possibly account for the sheer volume of blood that has turned the surrounding snow to viscous red sludge. The Master of the Knights of Ren lies curled on his side, his saber fallen from his loose grip, eyes shut in his bloodless face.

Hux reaches to take his pulse, tugging the leather collar away from Ren’s throat and ripping his own gloves off with his teeth. He finds a weak thrum when he presses against Ren’s jugular, and it’s only natural that he should feel so immensely relieved, really. He’s just following Snoke’s orders here.

_Hux, please, let’s get out of here now_ , Carmina pleads. _We can’t afford to waste time._

She’s right, of course, and he forces himself out of his paralyzed panic. Hux calls loudly through the wind to his troopers, ordering them to bring a stretcher, since there’s absolutely no possibility of him being able to heft Ren’s bloodied bulk out of the snow alone. A flash of black catches his eye, and Acerbyx hops clumsily into view, affected by her human’s accumulated damage. She stares impassively down at Ren’s mangled body. Carmina looks as though she is about to address Ren’s daemon directly, then seems to think better of it.

Hux takes it upon himself to cup the undamaged side of Ren’s cold face in his hand and turn it towards himself. He’s speaking to Ren before he even realizes it, urging him to wake, to move, to rise, impossible though that may be. Ren so often spoke of the infinite possibilities of the Force in his brief and strange conversations with Hux, but no invisible magic comes to his aid now. No, it’s only Hux and his very human abilities that might yet save Lord Kylo Ren and his daemon.

At last, the team of Stormtroopers arrives, obediently bearing a stretcher. Ren remains unresponsive, and Acerbyx does nothing to wake or comfort her human, merely hopping out of the way of the troopers and their daemons. When they’ve rolled Ren’s body onto the stretcher, she flutters up to perch by his ear, still silent, and lets herself be carried back to the ship. Only then does Hux think to rise from the snow that has already stained his uniform pants with both blood and meltwater.

Just a few meters away, the earth surrenders its structural integrity in one heaving shudder, and a massive crack appears. Carmina shrieks and flaps away, catching Hux’s shoulder in her claws and practically dragging him back to the shuttle, yelling something at him that gets swept away and lost in the wind. Hux follows in a daze, letting his daemon lead for once. Perhaps, he thinks hazily, if he’d only listened to her caution a little more frequently, he wouldn’t be taking his final steps on his life’s masterpiece scarce hours after its first activation.

~

The shuttle is barely out of atmo before the first flares begin to erupt from the planet’s surface, bursting miles high from its core. The shuttle rocks with the force of them, but Hux keeps his white-knuckled grip on the controls, disregarding his trooper co-pilot’s shiver of fear. Several alarms are blaring from the shuttle’s speakers, accompanied by bright red lights- Hux hardly has the spare brainspace to ascertain what danger they’re supposedly alerting him to. A few other troopers are in the process of contacting the _Finalizer_ when the next wave of radiation hits, and the ship goes dark.

Several seconds pass in terrified silence before the ship auto-resets its mainframe and starts booting itself back up. Hux quickly activates the deflector shield generator, which should protect them from the smaller radiation waves, once they make it out of direct range of the imploding planet. The trooper beside him seems imbued with a new sense of purpose after their near-disaster, Hux notes. Together, they are able to speed the shuttle’s recovery and maximize its use of its brand-new ion engines to propel them away from the dangerous plasma flares and towards the _Finalizer_.

One by one, the alarms fall quiet. A trooper’s voice becomes audible- she has a line to the _Finalizer_ and is hurriedly reporting their status to the bridge. Hux spares a glance for Ren’s body, still unattended on the stretcher, and sees that neither Ren nor his daemon have moved. Now that they’re out of range of the flares, a palpable air of relief has fallen over the crew, though not so much as to extend to joy. They’ve lost far too much for that to be possible.

“Who here has medical training?” Hux calls out to the crew. He waits for an answer but receives none, as a few troopers look sheepishly down or busy themselves with some task.

Carmina shuffles on his shoulder. _It’s going to have to be us_. Of course. As he’s always believed, the only way to get something done right is to do it yourself.

“Fine, then,” he says, turning to his co-pilot. “What is your designation?”

The trooper jolts, surprised at having been directly addressed. “I- I’m RD-5389,” he stutters.

Hux turns back to the rest of the crew. “Someone take over for me and assist RD-5389 in piloting us back to the _Finalizer_. Lord Ren requires immediate medical assistance.”

~

The command shuttle isn’t equipped with droids of any sort, to say nothing of specialized medical droids, but it does come with bunks and some advanced first aid equipment. Ren’s stretcher has already been strapped down on one of the bunks toward the rear of the ship. The troopers give him a wide berth, as if afraid that he’ll spring up any moment and lash out, lightsaber in hand.

The cold of Starkiller Base had temporarily slowed the flow of blood to a sluggish rate, but now that they’re on the climate-controlled shuttle, Ren’s wounds bleed anew, dripping over the edges of the stretcher and pooling upon the metal floor. Hux strips his gloves off hastily and moves to inspect Ren, but Acerbyx flaps into his path, blocking him from her human.

“Acerbyx, please,” says Carmina, her tone low and soothing. “He needs our help if you want to survive.”

Acerbyx glances back at Ren but does not move.

“He deserves this,” she murmurs, finally. “He failed. Our master will not be merciful.”

“The Supreme Leader is the one who sent us to retrieve you in the first place, and he wants both of you back in one piece. Unless you want to displease him further, let Hux tend to Ren now before he bleeds out entirely,” Carmina snaps, frustrated with the raven daemon’s reticence.

Acerbyx’s dark head cocks to the side, but without a further word, she steps back. Immediately, Hux moves in to remove Ren’s heavy cloak and assess his injuries. Carmina perches on the rail of the stretcher and feeds him information as he works, her keen hawk’s eyes scanning Ren’s form.

_Looks like there’s burns on his face and shoulder. No, don’t start with those, they’ve already been cauterized. His thigh’s burned too, I can see the gash. Most likely another lightsaber wound. Another on his upper arm._

Hux pauses, his hands hovering over Ren’s abdomen. _Yes, start there,_ Carmina advises. _He’s losing blood fast from that messy puncture in his side. We’d better staunch it before he can bleed out further._

His medical training from his time at Arkanis comes back to Hux in bits and pieces at first. Normally, not having a patient awake to describe their injuries would be a setback, but in this situation, Hux supposes Ren’s unconsciousness is a blessing. He can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Ren’s bisected face, which could have objectively been called handsome before this injury, and maybe even after.

The wide leather belt has to come off, though it’s done an excellent job of keeping pressure on the wound and acting as a tourniquet. Hux is forced to probe the wound with his hands, now clad in antibacterial gloves from the medkit. He can feel shrapnel there, as if from some explosive, but that can’t be right; the damage from such an attack would be far greater, Ren would be missing his whole left side-

“It’s from a Wookie bowcaster,” says Acerbyx, who has surprisingly chosen to be helpful for once. “He stopped the explosion with the Force before it could go to completion. The bolt’s been removed already.”

Hux forces his hands to remain steady as he reaches for the pair of tweezers in the medkit. Acerbyx offers no further advice, hardly even cringing as he painstakingly removes each piece of shrapnel before sewing up the wound with small, neat stitches that scarcely span the gaping puncture. It’s not a permanent solution- the stitches will likely tear the moment Ren starts moving- but they’ll have to do until Hux can get him to a proper medbay.

It’s only when he spreads bacta over the wound that Ren’s body jerks, his eyes flashing open. Hux makes to push him back down, afraid he’ll instantly reverse the work he’s done to heal, but Ren’s gaze is wild, animalistic, and Hux fears to touch him.

Ren collapses back on the stretcher, breathing heavily and erratically. Carmina and Hux exchange a worried glance.

“Where…where are we?” Ren manages. Hux takes a moment to arrange an answer in his mind that will be the least likely to enrage the injured knight.

“You’re on an Upsilon-class command shuttle, after having been recovered from Starkiller Base. We are en route to the Finalizer, where we intend to regroup after the base’s destruction. Leader Snoke-“

“The scavenger- where is she?” Ren wheezes furiously, attempting to lift his upper body but clearly suffering from the strained puncture in his side.

“She escaped, along with the traitor,” says Hux.

Ren roars in anger and frustration, lashing out with his arm and sending one unlucky Stormtrooper flying into the wall. The rest cower at the front of the shuttle, but Hux remains exactly where he stands, staring Ren down. Acerbyx, he notices, has distanced herself from Ren and regards him disdainfully from the opposite bunk.

The lights flicker once, no doubt due to Ren’s tantrum-throwing. Hux keeps his eyes on Ren’s face until his breathing has somewhat steadied. Ren is looking through him, past him, projecting his despair and self-targeted fury to a point where even Hux can feel it. It is by no means a pleasant experience, and he knows Carmina can sense it as well.

“Are you quite done?” he asks. Ren’s eyes slide shut, but not before he can see the glittering wetness in them. He slumps back down onto the stretcher, and the oppressive projections of rage subside with him.

“Good. I’ll take that as a yes. I need to tend to the rest of your injuries, so please remain still.” Ren says nothing. Towards the front of the shuttle, the group of Stormtroopers manage to tear their eyes away from the scene and return to their previous tasks, quieted by Ren’s outburst.

The closeness of their bodies has Hux on edge, but it’s an unfortunate necessity of delivering Ren to the Supreme Leader in acceptable condition. He supposes he could’ve just staunched the blood flow and left it at that, but doing so would smack of carelessness in a way that he simply could not stand for. Hux carries enough blame for the day; to complete this final task unsatisfactorily would be a disappointment to both Snoke and himself.

“Why did you retrieve me?” Ren murmurs, just loud enough for Hux to hear him without letting the rest of the crew eavesdrop. “I know you hold me responsible for what happened to Starkiller. You could have easily left me there to die with the planet.”

Hux trims away the fabric around the large burn on Ren’s thigh before reaching for the antiseptic. Ren grits his teeth against the sting as he applies it. There’s blood on his broad lips.

“The Supreme Leader ordered me to find you and bring you to him. I am not so petty as to disobey him in favor of my own grudges.”

“So you do hold a grudge,” Ren says. “That’s good. At least it shows you’re human.”

Hux has never been less interested in bickering with his co-commander. He’d almost preferred Ren when he was unconscious, and every smart comment he makes from here on out will make Hux regret not disobeying the Supreme Leader’s command.

  _But you would’ve rescued him anyway_ , says Carmina, unhelpfully. _Even when you’re angry, you can’t lie to me._ He mentally shushes her and presses a little harder on the burn wound than is entirely necessary.

“What did my master say to you?” Ren asks. He’s staring at the bottom of the bunk above him, as if seeking answers in the spotless steel rails. _He really has no right to look so lost and helpless,_ Hux thinks. _He’s not the only one who’s lost something today._ If Ren’s listening in on his thoughts again, then that one was meant for him to hear.

“The Supreme Leader told me to bring you back to him. He says you’re to start the next stage of your training with him,” he replies in clipped tones.

Ren’s face goes whiter than it already is, which would have been an impressive feat were it not so concerning. Across from him, Acerbyx stretches her wings and gives a soft little caw. The silence between them stretches, before Hux reaches for more bacta.

Ren is quiet for the rest of the procedure, barely flinching at Hux’s touch. His eyes flicker over to Hux’s face a few times, but eventually he slides back into unconsciousness. Hux continues to patch him up as best he can, feeling some small flare of pride at his own abilities when no more blood drips from Ren’s injuries. Here, at last, is one more job he has seen to completion, one thing he can approve of.

_What was that about?_ Carmina inquires, once Hux has sat back and removed the antibacterial gloves. He knows what she’s referring to- the mysterious next stage of Ren’s training. Clearly Ren fears it as much as he anticipates it.

_I haven’t a clue. I imagine he has some idea of the punishment that awaits him. As we do ours._

_We’ve done our best, Hux. That’s all we’ve ever done. We’ll take responsibility for our part, and the rest is up to the Supreme Leader._

One of the troopers gives a progress report- they should be docking at the _Finalizer_ within 30 minutes. Hux closes his eyes for a few moments, for once not caring if the troopers see him falter.

_He might kill us, Mina. After we’ve failed him like this. He’ll go easy on Ren, his little pet, but it’s like Acerbyx says. The Supreme Leader isn’t known for his forgiveness._

Carmina cards her hooked beak through the hair above Hux’s ear, as if grooming him. It’s an old, familiar gesture that she had used to calm Hux even in childhood. Despite everything, it’s still comforting.

_We’re still valuable, Hux. Disgraced, certainly, but not without worth. We’ll make it up to him, you’ll see. We’ll convince him we’re worth keeping._


	3. Chapter 3

The days after the loss of Starkiller pass like a dream, a nightmare. Hux does not sleep for a good three standard cycles as he rushes from one sector of the _Finalizer_ to another, assessing the damage done, calculating the loss from their fleet, searching ceaselessly for any leaks in their security that could lead to another disastrous incident like this.

The medbay is filled with injured Stormtroopers and battered pilots, who’d barely managed to steer their damaged crafts back to the _Finalizer_ before Starkiller imploded. Of the troopers who’d been on base, many were wounded by falling pieces of walls and ceilings, newly-erected architecture shaken free by the planet’s tremors. Many more never made it off base in time. Every time he passes the medbay, Hux notes the countless dog daemons curled by their humans, licking their faces in comfort.

Ren is kept there for several days, suspended in a tank of bacta with a breathing tube down his throat. Hux stops to observe his unresponsive body, once or twice, out of something he might call curiosity. The twisted, bloody mess on his side has begun to resolve itself into a mass of scar tissue, while the gash across his face shrinks to a shiny pink line. Acerbyx is kept in a comical little daemon-bed beside his tank, as unconscious as her human. Carmina has been wanting to speak with her, for reasons she refuses to explain.

The Finalizer draws ever close to Snoke’s location, to the coordinates he’d finally given Hux after the escape shuttle had reached the flagship. Hux had considered the possibility of shipping Ren out to his master on a smaller vessel, but that possibility carries risks of its own. Sending a valuable figurehead of the First Order out practically unprotected is akin to asking the Resistance to swoop in and cause trouble, especially now that their security has been so compromised. Besides, there’s no telling how long the journey would take in a smaller ship, and with their decimated numbers, the First Order pilots can scarcely spare a single vessel to make the trip.

Details of the attack begin to come clear over the course of a few days. The scavenger girl Ren had imprisoned was Force-sensitive and had used her abilities to escape, through means Hux does not yet entirely understand. From what Ren had said after his rescue, Hux assumes she’d faced him down and somehow managed to defeat him. This worries him nearly as much as her escape does. If an untrained twig of a girl from a desert planet managed to best not only his Stormtroopers but the Master of the Knights of Ren, then perhaps Hux had more to fear from the Force than he had initially estimated.

One day, Ren wakes from his medically-induced coma, and though Hux fully expects to hear damage reports from the medbay, Ren had apparently staggered back to his quarters without further ado. As far as Hux knows, he’s still there now, licking his wounds. Hux ignores the passing urge to go check on him- he’s got enough on his plate as it stands, and he hardly thinks Ren would respond favorably to a visit.

As much as Hux wants to focus solely on the practical aspects of recovering from the attack, Carmina has begun to express concern over the Force abilities of the enemy.

“I mean, think about it, Hux. The Empire fell because they underestimated one Jedi.” She’s been pressing the subject, hoping to wear him down.

“There were a whole host of other factors involved,” he replies shortly, as the door to their quarters opens after another endless day.

“But it would be foolish not to learn from the mistakes of the past. Sure, maybe Ren’s search for Skywalker is a waste of time, but we’ve got a new threat now that just managed to escape from our highest-security interrogation room. And they say General Organa is Force-sensitive too, being the sister of Skywalker and all.” She continues to ramble as Hux undresses stiffly, going through the motions of preparing for sleep.

“What does Organa have to do with anything?”

Carmina hops to the top of the headboard of his bed. “Well, when you examine what happened on Starkiller, it was an information leak that led to its destruction, from a Stormtrooper of all people. I think we should really consider prioritizing our security to defend against these sorts of chinks in our armor.”

Hux reclines on his bed, hands folded atop his stomach. He’ll rise again in four hours or so, though it’s unlikely he’ll manage to sleep much at al.

“I still don’t see how this is related to Organa,” he mutters.

Carmina shuffles above him to look him in the eye. “I imagine we’ll meet her in person eventually, on the battlefield or not. We know now that she’s Ren’s mother.” That information had stunned him, when the rumors had circulated around from the Stormtroopers who had witnessed Ren’s confrontation with Han Solo. It had angered Hux, to know that Snoke had withheld such vital information. He’s not sure how to broach the subject at all with Ren.

“If her son can read minds, who’s to say she can’t do the same?”

A cold feeling settles over Hux’s body. “Oh,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” says Carmina. They both pause to consider that possibility.

“But what could we possibly do to defend ourselves against a mental invasion? We can buff the Order’s security all we like, but if Organa can pluck all that information from my head the moment she’s near me, then it’s useless.”

“I say we go to Ren,” his daemon replies, sounding completely serious despite the clear absurdity of her suggestion. “He’s the only one apart from Snoke who knows anything about this Force business.”

Hux snorts. “Why would Ren help us? He’s likely still injured; we’d go to his rooms and get Force-choked against the wall if his temper flares. I hear he likes to do that,” Hux muses, thinking back to the bruises he’d seen on Lieutenant Mitaka’s neck.

He can sense Carmina’s quick mind processing. “I’m not sure he’d do that so soon. We’d be the only real company he’s seen in days. No one else will go near him. And Hux, I really do think he’s desperate for some sort of human contact.”

“What could have possibly led you to think that?”

“It’s his daemon,” comes her response. “He can hide behind that mask, but she can’t. I see her looking at us all the time, like she’s desperate to say something to me. And even Ren has tried to reach out to you, though you’ve rebuffed him on nearly every occasion. Who knows, they might relish being able to teach something to us.”

Hux gives a deep sigh.

“You’re considering it, aren’t you.” Carmina’s voice carries a hint of smugness. She does so love being right, and she’s presented a somewhat compelling argument.

“I’ll go see him tomorrow,” Hux concedes. “Snoke will want to know how he’s doing anyway. I wanted a moment to get away from all those meetings, too. I’ll ask him if he can help us, but at the slightest sign of a temper tantrum, we are leaving.”

“Sounds fair,” Carmina replies.

“We’ll see then if your little hypothesis is right.” He closes his eyes, praying for rest that may or may not come.

_~_

The next day, after completing the rest of his responsibilities, Hux arrives at the door of Ren’s chamber, far removed down the hall of officer’s suites on the _Finalizer_. It’s likely Ren chose it for himself for that reason, the unsociable creature that he is. Hux hesitates a moment before pressing the buzzer by the sliding durasteel door. Carmina shuffles in anticipation.

The door slides open immediately, and Ren is there, unmasked, Acerbyx perched on his shoulder. He must not have had time to make himself a new mask after losing the old one on Starkiller. It’s not so much of a shock to see that jarringly youthful face of his, considering that Hux has seen him at his most vulnerable and survived to tell the tale. His right arm, Hux notices, is in a sling- _that’s new,_ says Carmina.

“Come in,” says Ren, his face carefully blank, and turns away, letting Hux and Carmina follow him into his chambers. Carmina shifts from foot to foot, doing her best to inconspicuously scope out Ren’s quarters. They’re disappointingly sparse- Hux had been expecting luxury for Snoke’s favorite lapdog, and in fact he’d been preparing his most disdainful sneer just for the occasion, but the small living room here is no comfier than his own. He catches a glimpse of the bedroom beyond through a narrow doorway, but he can’t make out any particular oddities without making it obvious that he’s been looking.

Ren settles into a straight-backed chair and gestures for Hux to sit opposite him. Hux complies, watching Ren carefully across the small table. This must be where he takes his meals- not once has Hux ever seen him in the officer’s mess hall. He moves stiffly, still suffering from his injuries. Hux feels a twinge of guilt at that, recalling the rushed job he’d been forced to do on Ren’s numerous injuries. Clearly he’d missed the arm.

“The tendons are still growing back,” says Ren, gesturing with his good arm to the sling. “They were severed in my… fight with the scavenger girl.” Either he’s noticed Hux staring (possible) or he’s eavesdropping in Hux’s mind again (far more likely, considering how casually Ren drops into people’s thoughts.) Either way, Hux shudders to imagine the sort of pain a severed tendon would cause.

Ren locks eyes with him. “Why have you come here?” _Blunt as ever,_ he thinks to Carmina, and feels her agreement.

Hux clears his throat. “I thought you would be the best person to consult about matters of the Force.” Maybe that’ll flatter him, if flattery even works on such a strange being as Kylo Ren.

Ren blinks slowly, surprised. His eyes are an unusual shade of golden brown, Hux notes absently. “You thought correctly. Of the people that live aboard this ship, I am the only one with any substantial knowledge of the Force. You seem like the kind of man to have done your research, though.”

“True, and I’ve researched the topic to the extent that I can in my free time, but there’s only so much that books and folk stories can teach.” Ren nods in assent. “Theoretically, it’s a difficult concept to understand, since it’s not truly comparable to other universal constants- entropy, energy exchange, such things can be taught in textbooks. You have experience with the Force that few others do.”

“That’s why,” he continues, getting to the point as quickly as he can, “I would like to request that you…train me. In matters of the Force. To the best of your ability, if you believe yourself capable of it.”

Hux isn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Kylo Ren’s entire face lighting up in…joy? Excitement? Whatever it is, it’s an emotion that doesn’t look to be at home on his face, and it’s gone within moments, once he twists his expression back into its usual pout.

“I must say, General, I am glad to hear you’ve changed your outlook on the Force. Your previous dismissal of it was disappointing to me, especially considering what you are.”

“After what occurred on Starkiller it would be neglectful of me to continue disregarding- wait a minute.” Hux takes a second to process the latter portion of Ren’s statement. “What do you mean, considering what I am?”

“I only mean to say that I had trouble understanding why a Force-sensitive would be so flippant about matters pertaining to the Force.”

Hux stares at Ren’s long, earnest face for a few moments, then throws back his head and laughs.

“Excuse me, Ren,” he says, still chuckling. “I often forget that you have an actual understanding of humor.”

Ren has the nerve to look upset at that, and Hux is in the middle of wondering when Ren became so sensitive to his barbs when Acerbyx pipes up.

“He doesn’t know, Kylo. Neither of them do.”

Understanding washes across Ren’s face, but clearly it’s skipped Hux, because he’s struck with a terrible feeling of having missed something. There’s few things he hates more than being the only one confused in a given situation, which is why he makes it his business to be the most competent person in the room as often as possible.

“What don’t we know?” Carmina asks, eyes swiveling between Ren and Acerbyx.

“General,” Ren says, “Do you and Carmina communicate more verbally or mentally?”

“Mentally, of course, “ Hux replies. “It’s far more convenient in most situations.”

Ren sits back, satisfied. “And if I told you that the vast majority of humans cannot communicate with their daemons in such a way?”

Hux gapes.

“Only Force-sensitive humans can commune mentally with their daemons. The rest of the population is limited to speech,” Ren continues. He sounds as though he’s given this talk before, though to whom, Hux can only guess.

“That doesn’t make any sense-“ Hux starts, but Ren interrupts him.

“Does it not? Haven’t you ever wondered why so many people speak to their daemons out loud when it would be safer to converse through a private mental bond?”

 _Yes,_ Hux thinks to himself and Carmina, _but I assumed they were mostly just loudmouths who enjoyed hearing themselves talk. How did we not notice?_

 _Maybe we’re not as perceptive we thought,_ says Carmina, a low note of shock present in her mind-voice.

“It’s easy to miss,” says Ren out loud, apparently unable to keep his prying Force-fingers out of Hux and Carmina’s shared headspace. “Most Force-sensitives go their whole lives without questioning it. Those who do realize a difference often keep it to themselves out of fear. There’s surprisingly little written about it, as a matter of fact. The human Jedi in particular were always reticent about anything related to daemons.”

Hux is intensely aware of Ren’s gaze on him. Ren looks…fascinated, like he can’t tear his eyes away. There’s something both disturbing and oddly endearing about that.

“Are you sure?” he asks, finally. Carmina ruffles her feathers defensively, apparently still sulking about her life-long oversight.

“Positive,” comes Ren’s instant reply. “Congratulations, General.”

Hux settles back into his chair, dazed. “It…may take some time to wrap my head around that. Being Force-sensitive...I can scarcely believe it.” An idea comes to him; perhaps this new development will turn out to be a positive in his plan to defend his mind from Snoke. Speaking of Snoke-

“Does the Supreme Leader know?”

“Yes,” says Ren, “but he does not consider your abilities a threat. That’s why he felt no need to call attention to them.”

 _Essentially, he’d rather we’d never found out about our special magic powers,_ Carmina quips derisively. _What a joke this all is._

“It’s clear you’ve never made conscious use of your Force abilities, then. In that case, what was it you had hoped for me to train you in?” Ren’s expression is curious, searching; he leans forward in his chair as he speaks. It strikes Hux then that Ren is _pleased_ about this turn of events, that he actually values the opportunity to speak to another Force-sensitive. Somehow that realization makes this whole situation even more confusing.

“I’ve observed you in action enough times to know that the Force can be used in extracting thoughts from one’s head. You’ve done it to me more times than I’d like to mention,” Hux adds pointedly, and Ren shrugs unapologetically.

“I need to know how to protect my mind against the attempts of other Force users. As a general of the First Order, it is my responsibility to protect classified information against any and all attacks. If being Force-sensitive will aid me, then all the better.”

Ren’s expressive brow crinkles. “What other Force users would be a threat to you? Skywalker is unlikely to target a general, and soon enough he will be dealt with.”

“I have heard rumors of General Organa’s ability with the Force,” says Hux, and Ren’s face hardens visibly. “Should there ever come a meeting between the Resistance and the First Order, repulsive though the idea may be, I need to ensure that I can keep the secrets of the First Order from her.”

“You expect me to believe you wish only to shield your thoughts from her? You are more transparent than you think, Hux.” Ren’s eyes narrow. He stands and begins to pace.

“You cannot hope to hide your thoughts from my master. No amount of teaching from me can change that. He will know you are trying to deceive him, and he will not be pleased to find out why.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m hiding?” Hux asks innocently.

“Your ambitions,” Ren replies accusingly, turning to Hux. “Being a general isn’t enough for you. You want more power; you’re ravenous for it.”

“As if you aren’t,” Hux scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Carmina’s fretting in his head is becoming bothersome, and he does his best to ignore her feedback. “Aren’t Sith apprentices supposed to kill their masters eventually? I think Snoke has a lot more to worry about from you than me.”

“I am not a Sith,” Ren spits. There’s color in his cheeks; his eyes are too-bright and tinted with fever. Hux can sense a classic Ren tantrum brewing from miles away and resolves to stop it in its tracks. It’s Ren’s fault for being able to work him up so easily- he rarely rises to such obvious bait from anyone else.

“This is all irrelevant,” Hux says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can’t argue that it’s not in good sense to want to defend the inside of my head, especially when it contains such integral information to the First Order’s operations. I’m a willing pupil, Ren, but if you’re too paranoid to teach me, I’ll leave right now and never bother you about it again.”

There. He’s delivered the ultimatum. It’s in Ren’s hands now. If Carmina was wrong about Ren, he’ll kick them out now and likely become even more difficult to work with in the future. If not…

“I’ll do it,” says Ren, and Hux is awash with relief, despite how little he wants to care about this.

“Thank you, Ren.” He manages some sincere-sounding gratitude.

“But don’t think for a minute I won’t be watching you closely. You would be unwise to make an enemy out of me or my master, Hux.”

Hux suppresses a strong urge to roll his eyes at Ren’s melodrama. “I know, I know- it’s useless to try and hide things from you anyway, right?”

Ren sinks heavily back into his chair, his careful gaze still fixed on Hux. Hux finds himself wishing he could have back the Ren of mere minutes ago, keen-eyed and eager, who had been so obviously glad of the opportunity to teach the ways of the Force to a pupil.

“You’ll start tomorrow night. Meet me here at twenty hours.”

“I’m _busy,_ Ren, I’ve at least three other tasks to be doing at that time-“ Hux begins to protest, but Ren cuts him off.

“Tomorrow night. No later. If you want to learn, you need to begin immediately to make up for your years of inexperience.” The word _inexperience_ stings at Hux’s ego- it sounds too much like something a commanding officer would have told him at the academy on Arkanis, and those are memories he does not want to revisit, nor associate with Ren here and now.

“You know, Ren, you could stand to give me a little more credit. Don’t forget who came to pick you up off Starkiller when it was imploding,” he snaps.

Ren scoffs. “You told me yourself you were just obeying the Supreme Leader’s orders.”

Hux is annoyed with Ren’s flippancy, the ease with which he brushes off the fact that Hux very well saved his life, so his next words tumble out far too fast.  
“Don’t you think I would’ve done it anyway?”

Ren blinks at him, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. Hux can feel a flush creeping up his neck, so he stands quickly and makes his getaway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Hux says, already in the doorway, and maybe Ren says something after him, but it goes unheard as the door slides shut and he starts briskly towards his own quarters.

 _Smooth,_ says Carmina.

_Oh, hush up. We got what we wanted. That’s what matters._

The halls are quiet at this hour. One low-ranking officer sees Hux and scurries into a side corridor. He can never quite turn off the urgency in his stride, which often alarms the crew into thinking there is some emergency, when really, he just enjoys walking the halls of the _Finalizer_.

He would have cherished doing the same on Starkiller Base too, had it only existed a little longer.

Back in his quarters, Hux cleans up and undresses to his undershirt and boxers for the night. He’s exhausted, as he is perpetually these days, but sleep will not come easily to him. And when it does, he knows full well he’ll be taunted by visions of his beloved base going up in flames, accompanied by the screams of panicked Stormtroopers and the chaos of ships careening and colliding in their attempts to escape gravity. The nightly reliving of the tragedy is beginning to weigh on Hux, and though he knows he should visit medbay and get something done about it, he can’t bring himself to sink any lower, to show any more weakness than he already has.

Carmina flaps to her perch on the headboard of Hux’s bed. Hux reaches up to card his fingers through her feathers affectionately. He can still scarcely believe that their mental connection is somehow Force-based- though, in a way, it makes him feel even closer to his daemon. More protective, perhaps, of the unique bond that they have.

“Is it strange that I’m almost looking forward to our session with them tomorrow?” Carmina asks, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Hux shakes his head. “I feel the same way, despite everything. I…I think it’s been a while since we’ve had anything to look forward to.”

It’s true. In the days since the Starkiller disaster, Hux has functioned for the most part in a state of numbness. Pride, anxiety, irritation- everything seems dampened, as if some heavy grey cloth were laid over his senses. Hux struggles to recall how he’d felt up on the dais, delivering his speech just before the First Order’s greatest weapon fired for the first and last time. It has only been days, but he feels as though the man who spoke that day was a different person entirely, some better version of Hux that has been lost forever.

“He seems to be mourning something different than we are,” Carmina murmurs, as if to herself. Hux understands; he’s heard the rumors of what Ren did, of who he had to kill. He knows what Han Solo was to him.

Normally, Ren’s indifference would infuriate him, but now it seems almost like a blessing.

“It’s because he doesn’t blame us for what happened,” says Carmina, plucking the very thought from Hux’s head. “And whether or not it’s true, you feel like every other person on this ship holds us accountable for Starkiller.”

 _We hold ourselves accountable for it_ , Hux thinks both to himself and to Carmina.

“But Ren doesn’t care. He’s only concerned about his own issues. He isn’t judging us for barely keeping it together; the man’s a wreck on a daily basis.”

Hux can’t help but snort at that. “I suppose now that we’ve gotten our grandest failure out of the way, we can start lowering our standards progressively for the company we keep.”

“Who knows,” Carmina replies, “maybe something good will come of this. Rising from the ashes and such.”

“You’re the wrong sort of bird for that.”

“Oh, do just go to sleep, Hux. We’ve got another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Hux shuts his eyes, but his rattling, unsettled mind takes far longer to finally come to rest.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day marks a full week since the loss of Starkiller Base, and yet the damage reports show no sign of ceasing to roll into Hux’s datapad. The updates are at last beginning to slow; during the first few days after the incident, Hux had been inundated with reports of missing personnel found or TIE fighters confirmed as shot down. He’d lived in a state of fluctuation between relief and despair before the grey fog settled in to permanently tamp down his emotions.

Another such update pings in on his datapad as he enters the officer’s cafeteria. The hall is quieter than usual, Hux notes as he grabs a tray. Portions seem to have been increased; after the massive loss of personnel on Starkiller, the food staff must have figured they can afford to feed the survivors a bit more than previous rations would have allowed for. That might be the one good outcome of this whole mess, he muses.

Hux endeavors to eat quickly and leave, hoping to spare himself the humiliation of being seen eating alone. The hall is uncrowded enough that it’s obvious when a few other officers avoid his eyes and sit conspicuously far away from Hux and Carmina.

_Cowardly bastards,_ Carmina hisses in his mind. She can’t stand public scrutiny any more than Hux can and has notably less patience for those who fail to show proper respect.

_It’s not just them, Mina. No one will look at us. They know that everyone on the_ Finalizer _is only here because they deserted their duty. They must be afraid we’ll punish them._

Hux pauses to think on that as he digs into his bowl of over-sugared oatmeal. _Or they’re embarrassed to be seen with the failed General. Another possibility._

_Snoke hasn’t had us executed yet,_ Carmina reminds him. _That’s got to mean something._ Nevertheless, she aims a sharp glare at the daemons of two passing lieutenants who appear to be whispering to each other, and their furry heads sink lower.

The _Finalizer_ seems colder than usual as Hux walks its halls, and he pulls his overcoat a little tighter about him. The same heavy grey mood seems to hang over the whole ship, tainting its familiarity and tinging the taste of recycled air with a metallic scent too close to blood for Hux’s liking. The massive ship has been his home so long that he cannot help but note every small change, every sign of the grief and loss hanging oppressive over what is left of the First Order’s heart.

He wonders, for a moment, if this could be the Force-sensitivity Ren was talking about. If he could be somehow attuning himself to the frequency of his crew’s emotions, taking in the horror and emptiness of thousands of his employees. Perhaps it’s worth asking Ren about, if only to help his own focus.

The overseeing of repairs takes up the majority of his day, which is at least more tolerable than endless planning meetings. It’s gratifying to see the mechanical guts of ships being patched up and relegated back to their proper places. Even the _Finalizer_ itself did not escape the fray entirely, but Hux is relieved to find that the damages do not require the replacement of any large, essential parts. It would take weeks for those to reach them, possibly more with the interference of the Resistance, and that is time he does not have.

Carmina has voiced her own, private concerns to Hux as well, though he’s disregarded them. She fears that Snoke will murder Ren for his failure, a fear that Hux finds mostly unfounded. It’s none of their business what happens to Ren and Acerbyx, he has emphasized to her. Certainly, he may suffer under his master’s hand, but there’s really nothing he and Carmina can do about it, apart from delay his arrival and risk further angering the Supreme Leader. The worry does not leave him, though, merely stacking itself onto a long, long list of fears and anxieties that weighs heavy about Hux’s throat and risks choking him at times. He wonders when Ren’s safety became such a priority. It must have been right around the time when he first began to see Ren as something vulnerable, which is in itself a sentiment bordering on the insane.

~

Hux had previously scheduled a series of meetings for later in the day and is now coming to intensely regret that decision, as he sits through what must be the fifteenth repetition of the proposed changes to this month’s budget, which has never been more out of balance. Why hadn’t he the presence of mind to schedule these for the morning, when he at least had some strength left to face the day, and not the evening when he could scarcely force himself to go through the motions?

Emergency motions are being taken, with his recommendation, to reach out to the First Order’s allies and call in practically every favor they’ve been owed. Supplies, weapons, ships- they’ve been hit hard, and Hux knows it better than anyone else. They’re damn lucky the Resistance is similarly recovering and has recently experienced the vaporization of their most powerful allies in the Hosnian System.

The familiar faces crowding the long table of the meeting room stand out as clearly as the spaces left by those officers who didn’t make it off the base in time. Carmina’s observation from earlier rings true- there’s a palpable sense of guilt among those who abandoned their posts to flee. Some of those, who would under any other circumstance be deemed traitors, have actually been promoted in the desperate post-implosion restructuring of leadership, in a truly abhorrent twist of irony. Yet Hux can’t bring himself to blame them; after a certain point, the base’s destruction was inevitable, and they need every available member of higher command in this nadir of their sufferings. So betrayals were forgiven, cowardice was rewarded, and the First Order lived on in the face of adversity.

Lieutenant Tokka finishes her proposal for appealing to Dorvalla’s main mining company for raw materials, which Hux intends to approve after making a few changes. It’s humiliating, to prostrate themselves before petty Outer Rim corporations like this, but with their aid, the First Order’s recovery will be swift and irreversible. The original balance of power will be restored, in time. Hux has his pride, but even he can set that aside for the sake of the Order. Even if it means visiting these backwater planets himself to beg for funds. The thought makes his stomach turn a little.

The next step will be to appeal to their more covert but equally valuable allies in the Core Worlds. What they lack in resources, they make up for in power and influence, and their partnership will be essential in bringing an end to this war, should Hux succeed in presenting the First Order as a better alternative to the ragtag leadership of the Resistance. It’s imperative that the destruction of Starkiller be depicted as an incidental victory by a weaker group, made possible only by a few key slip-ups that will assuredly not happen again. General Organa is known to be a persuasive speaker, but her numbers are fewer, and hopefully she’ll be too focused on rebuilding her fleet to detract from increasing support for the First Order. By the time she’s ready to do battle again, the most important fight taking place in the hearts and minds of the people will already be won. Hux keenly anticipates reaching this turning point, but there is much work still to be done before then.

The meeting drags on for several more hours, and Hux finds himself checking the chronometer as 20:00 approaches. It’s a mere half hour before then when the last speaker finally concludes his presentation, and Hux hurriedly approves it and delivers a few closing remarks. The other officers appear grateful for his brevity; Hux normally works long hours of his own free will, but his underlings are accustomed to their hours off in the evenings. That will have to change. Chairs are pushed in as daemons take their perch upon their humans or slink to their sides, and the table is emptied within a minute.

Leaving only Hux and Carmina, and their off-the-records appointment with Kylo Ren.

“Let’s get going, then,” Carmina murmurs, and Hux stirs himself and sets off down the long hallway.

For the second time in as many days, Hux finds himself hesitating once more at Kylo Ren’s door. Carmina still seems anxious to enter, but he’s having second thoughts about entering the lair of an unbalanced proto-Sith for ambiguously defined “Force training.” Admittedly, this was his idea, and Ren would never let him live it down if he backed out now. This, and the sense that Ren now owes him after the Starkiller incident, propels him to hit the buzzer by Ren’s door.

It opens immediately, prompting Hux to wonder if Ren can somehow sense his approach through the Force, or some ridiculousness like that. Ren looks slightly better than he had the last time- the sling is still present, but his face seems less drawn, the circles under his eyes less pronounced. _At least one of us has gotten some sleep,_ he thinks, mostly to himself.

“I’m glad to see you decided to stop by after all, General. Come in.” The statement seems mocking somehow, as if Ren had known Hux’s doubts about this whole thing. Still, Hux maintains what he hopes is a smoothly unreadable expression as he enters.

It’s with a strong sense of déjà vu that he seats himself across from Ren once more, fingers itching with the urge to dig themselves into his palms. Acerbyx eyes Carmina from her perch on the back of Ren’s chair, but says nothing.

“We don’t have much time for you to learn. Soon I will depart and return to my master, and I expect you will be remaining at your post on the _Finalizer_.” Somehow, Ren’s casual certainty that Hux won’t be immediately executed for his failure warms him, a much-needed comfort. “Fortunately, my specialty in the Force lies in matters of the mind. Reading thoughts, incubating ideas in the minds of others, and even erasing memories are all within the capabilities of a strong Force user. Your Force sensitivity is not especially attuned, but it will help you nonetheless.”

Something is off about Ren’s tone. Normally he speaks in short, chopped sentences, as though he has trouble stringing together his own fragmented thoughts. Now, his enthusiasm seems to be possessing him. Hux has never known him to be so oddly eloquent.

“To begin, you’ll need to know what it feels like to have someone invade your mind.” Upon seeing Hux’s aghast expression, Ren’s face turns contrite before he continues hurriedly. “I would not suggest this were it not entirely necessary. As of now, you cannot sense another Force user’s presence in your head. You won’t feel pain, not like those I interrogate do.” He seems to be waiting for Hux’s consent.

Hux sighs. “What will it feel like, then?”

Ren’s eyes dart downward, as though recalling a sensation from memory. “It isn’t…comfortable, certainly. You’ll feel a sense of possessiveness, even outrage, and most of all an alarming sense of not being alone in your head. The most difficult thing will be to not panic. Panic throws your mind into disarray. Fear will reveal the very thoughts you wished to keep secret. This is why you need to become accustomed to mental invasion before you can defend yourself.”

_Do we have to?_ Carmina whines. Ren waits for Hux’s response, uncharacteristically patient.

“Fine.” Hux closes his eyes for a moment. “What do I need to do?”

“Choose something to hide from me. Any thought, or preferably a memory- those are easier to hold in your mind. I will attempt to find it.” Ren stretches out his hand, gaze intense. “Are you ready, General?”

Hux nods, flipping through recent recollections to find a relatively innocuous one to hide from Ren. He chooses a moment on the bridge from weeks ago, when Ren had seized some unlucky lieutenant by the throat and dangled him in the air using the Force. Hux had stormed in from another room to bring the scene to a crashing halt, furious with Ren’s reckless behavior. It’s a vivid enough memory.

And then there is a prying presence at the edges of his thoughts, creeping inward, tendril-like, invasive yet careful, and Hux thinks _No,_ loudly enough that the presence seems to retreat for a split second. Hux takes the opportunity to throw up some haphazard mental barriers, blocking Ren out with lists of expenses, of supply chains in the Outer Rim, even of Stormtrooper numbers. He grimaces with the effort of it.

But Ren is relentless, and even those barriers fall in the face of his intrusion, and soon enough the memory is dragged to the forefront of Hux’s brain, replaying in full color and detail.

Then, as quickly as he had entered, Ren leaves him, and Hux drops back into his own body, blood rushing in his ears. His heart pounds fast- he’d closed his eyes somewhere along the way and hadn’t noticed Ren leaning further and further in.

The corners of Ren’s mouth twitch upward in amusement. “An interesting memory, General.”

“I thought you’d enjoy seeing it again,” Hux replies, with a sardonic smile.

“But you can still do better than that,” says Ren, and Hux’s smile disappears instantly.

Ren continues, oblivious to Hux’s irritation. “You’re overloading yourself in your attempts to block me out with extraneous thoughts. It will work on weaker Force users, but not someone like General Organa. The most effective way to shield yourself is to empty your head and think of nothing at all. Have you ever meditated before?”

Hux shakes his head- he’s never so much as tried, knowing his own abhorrence for an indolent mind. It seems like an exercise in futility, and he’d much rather try his previous method of blocking Ren out until it works.

“Carmina, you can help him,” says Acerbyx, suddenly speaking up. “If you both focus on tamping down your thoughts, you can be twice as effective.”

“Think of a void in space, somewhere silent and empty,” Ren joins in. “Visualize that, and hold it in your mind. Again, now.”

He reaches out in that ridiculous gesture once more, and Hux scarcely has time to prepare himself before Ren is rifling through his head again. It is less unpleasant this time but no less unwelcome, so Hux tries to shut his thoughts down in the way Ren suggested, urging Carmina to quiet her own as well.

It works, for a time. Hux pictures each racing thought process as a room, and he imagines flicking a light switch in each one. Background chatter about Snoke’s plans for him- click. Concerns over the remnants of the _Finalizer_ ’s core crew- click. Worries about Ren and his incomprehensible moods- gone into the void. Each thought pushes at the edges of his brain, doing its best to take over again, but Hux crushes each one mercilessly. This time, Ren’s mind-presence hovers in the shallows, merely observing. Eventually, it too pulls away, and Hux relaxes his walls, allowing his thoughts to come racing back in.

He opens his eyes and finds Ren wide-eyed and- impressed? Hopefully. Knowing the inside of Hux’s head, he should appreciate the effort it takes to clear it all out.

“Better,” Ren says slowly, “much better. You are learning quickly.”

Hux thrums with pride at Ren’s words. Beside him, Carmina’s chest feathers puff out ever so slightly. His praise should mean nothing to the both of them, but Hux has always craved validation on some level, even from the strangest of peers.

“Choose another memory, and we’ll try again.”

The image rises unbidden from the depths of his mind, and though Hux tries to reject it, it’s already cemented itself in the center of his thoughts. A childhood memory, in flashes of color and texture, of Hux and Carmina playing together in a rare free hour on Arkanis, away from their father. Carmina had avoided the roiling seas of that planet, frightened of what lay in their depths. She’d always preferred to explore the skies and even as an unsettled daemon spent much of her time in an avian form. Hux recalls her graceful form looping and diving through the air, luxuriating in the uncommon sun, calling for Hux to follow her, and he’d done so, laughing and cheering her on as she spiraled on gusts of wind, in the form of a peregrine falcon, her jubilance flowing back through their connection and permeating through to his core.

He doesn’t want Ren to see this, how open and defenseless they both were in those times. And so he plunges his mind into darkness, with that memory quivering and hidden at its core.

Hux can feel Ren searching, with some difficulty, for what he’s hidden from him. He does his best to keep his thoughts quiet, but they betray him, the stress over hiding this personal memory eventually leading Ren directly to it. Hux doesn’t fight it when Ren plucks the mental reel of images out to view, knowing it’s useless to prevent him from seeing it. Soon it’s over, and Hux opens his eyes once more, exhausted and defeated.

Ren isn’t looking at him anymore, but at Carmina. His gaze is pensive, almost sad.

“Did she always enjoy being in a bird form?” he asks, after a few quiet seconds.

“Yes,” Carmina replies, even as Hux opens his mouth to answer. It isn’t like her to speak directly to the human of another daemon, but she’s feeling defensive, defiant in the face of their vulnerability. She lifts her head and looks Ren squarely in the eye.

Against all odds, Ren appears pleased with her boldness, and he nearly smiles again. “It’s a pleasant memory,” he replies. “I don’t mind seeing it.”

“Regardless,” Hux snaps, “the whole point of this exercise is to successfully hide my thoughts from you. Do it again, now, I’m ready.” He doesn’t want Ren using this as an excuse to delve through Hux’s happiest memories as a refuge from the chaotic inside of his own head.

Ren’s face furrows with concern; in this environment, he’s worse than usual at concealing his expressions. Hux can understand why he wears the mask.

“Are you sure? This training can easily tire out an untrained Force-sensitive-“

“ _Again._ ”

Ren complies, without a further word. They spend the next hour like this, with Hux drawing up memories new and old and protecting them from Ren’s searching mind. The warm coils of Ren’s presence become less and less alien, and Hux finds his own headspace reshaping itself to accommodate him. In this time, Hux inadvertently shows Ren three recent memories of events aboard the _Finalizer_ , one memory of his speech on Starkiller Base, and one further accidental recollection of the Academy on Arkanis.

“Do it again,” Hux growls, after that last slippage, still reeling from the humiliation of his failure. “I’ll get it right, let me try again-“

“That’s enough for tonight,” says Ren, and holds up a hand when Hux protests. “You’re exhausting yourself; any further and you’ll only make more mistakes. Next time, I can test you again, if you like.”

Hux nods, surprised by Ren’s insight. He’d expected the knight to continue drilling him long into the morning hours, as he’d expected Snoke has done to his own pupil. Carmina stretches her wings, bored from sitting so still. It’s a different kind of focus that Ren is teaching them, not the sort Hux uses to review endless reports late at night or engineer a solution to a mechanical issue. This kind does not come to the two of them so naturally.

Ren rises to accompany Hux to the door, oddly hospitable at such a late hour. His body language is reticent once more, now that he’s mentally switched out of teaching mode. He’d been completely engaged while training Hux, fully swept up in the role of instructor (master? Whatever the Sith word for it is, though Hux will never see Ren as a figure with authority above his own). He meets Hux’s eyes once more just as Hux opens the door to leave.

“You made considerable progress tonight. Continue practicing these skills on your own until we are able to convene again.”

Hux struggles to keep his expression neutral- when has Ren ever before praised him so? Of course the man would only see merit in skill with the Force and disregard Hux’s expertise in literally every other area.

“And when will that be?”

Ren shrugs. “What time would work for you?”

Hux could almost laugh. “Goodness, Ren, I don’t think you’ve ever shown such respect for my schedule before.”

Ren scowls and looks away. _He really does have a problem with eye contact._ “I understand that, until I return to my master, you hold more responsibilities than me. On top of that, I’m supposed to not exert myself while healing. It’s incredibly boring. Just tell me when to meet you again, and I will make time for it.”

Hux can sympathize with that sentiment, at least. He imagines Kylo pacing his quarters, afraid to venture out now that he’s been stripped of his mask. Terrified of being seen as weak, just like Hux himself. “I’m free tomorrow evening. How about then? Same time.”

Ren nods, his lips twisting again into the beginnings of what could be a smile, were it not forced back down. “Until then, General.” Acerbyx nods politely to Carmina before the door slides shut.

And if General Hux returns to his quarters with a slight spring in his step, none of his crew is unwise enough to point it out.

~

That night, Hux dreams vividly. This in itself is not notable; his nightmares have been persistent since Starkiller, invading his sleep and disturbing his waking hours. This one does not follow the pattern of the rest, however.

The dream begins with a strong sense of claustrophobia, like being trapped far underground, or buried alive. The void around him is oppressive, so different from the open, starry fields of space. It closes in, whispering to him coldly. He is trapped, caged in. Carmina is nowhere to be seen- this, more than anything else, terrifies him. He has never been without his daemon, not even in dreams. He tries to call out for her, but finds he cannot speak.

In the distance, he hears a metallic clinking noise, followed by a humming buzz that sets his nerves afire. Neither sound is particularly familiar to him, but somehow he knows to fear what comes with them. The sound grows nearer, nearer, until he knows he cannot escape.

All at once there is the tearing, a soul-wrenching cutting pain that has him screaming with no voice, pleading for an end. It’s as though his limbs are being torn from his body, or his heart plucked from his very chest. Something is sawing away at the core of him, and he knows, somehow, that once the torture is over, he will face something unimaginably worse, an eternal, essential loss.

_Help us_ , comes a voice that is strange and yet familiar. _Please, save us_.

The memory of the dream fades after Hux wakes, panting, left only with a strong feeling of foreboding.


	5. Chapter 5

During the night shift, the _Finalizer_ arrives at Snoke’s planet. It’s tiny, unremarkable, more a meteor than a true planet. No structures are visible on its grey, pockmarked surface, which explains why no one has bothered to investigate. That, and the abilities of its sole inhabitant, likely keep any visitors away.

Soon after he rises that morning, Hux receives a text summons calling him down to the surface. More detailed coordinates are given, which he figures must lead to the exact location of Snoke’s home on the planet’s surface. He can’t help the spark of anxiety that leaps in his chest at the notification; he doesn’t want to consider the possibility that Snoke already knows of the training he’d received from Ren. Maybe Ren was the one to tell him- but that thought is so grim he pushes it aside immediately. Ren, he imagines, wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of helping him develop his mental barriers if his intent had been to report directly back to Snoke. He would have simply turned Hux away from the beginning, as soon as he’d stated his intent.

He dresses and heads to the hangar, ignoring his stomach’s growl of hunger and Carmina’s resulting maternal disapproval. On the way there, seeming to melt out of the walls, Ren appears as if summoned by Hux’s thoughts. The sling that had held his arm is gone, but Hux notes how gingerly he walks. He recalls those times he’d seen Ren leave the holochamber, invisibly wounded by his master in punishment.

“He called you down too?” Hux asks, giving Ren a quick once-over. Apparently he hasn’t had time to make himself a new mask; instead his hood is pulled up over his untidy hair, and he hunches slightly, in an attempt to hide himself again behind a less literal shield.

Ren nods, sparing a quick glance for Hux. “You’ve never met him in person,” he says, phrasing it as a statement, not a question.

“Any idea of what I should expect?” He means it jokingly, but Ren’s face turns serious.

“Show him the utmost respect. Do not speak unless spoken to. And above all, don’t contradict him. You should be fine,” he adds on, like an afterthought. It does little to settle Hux’s nerves.

They board a small shuttle together, a pilot already in place to take them down to the planet. Hux plugs in the coordinates, then sits back, mentally preparing for the meeting.

The journey down is uneventful; without even the blessing of interesting topography to distract himself with, Hux is reduced to fidgeting in his seat like a child, occasionally stealing a look at Ren.

“Be calm,” Ren says out of nowhere, as they near the featureless terrain. “He only intends to welcome us and deliver orders. Nothing more.”

Hux considers snapping at Ren for his presumptuousness but is reminded of the oblique way the knight tends to express himself. If Hux’s emotions really are so loud, then it’s likely that Ren is being treated to them as well and wants to alleviate Hux’s worry. It’s almost endearing.

They touch down near an unassuming series of rounded, dusty hills, and Hux instructs the pilot to wait for them. After plugging the coordinates into his holopad, Hux follows the red dot it provides on the virtual map. Carmina takes in the view, head turning from side to side as she assesses the landscape.

Ren points in the direction of one of the low hills. “The entrance is over there.”

_I would’ve seen it in a few moments_ , Carmina grumbles. She takes pride in her excellent vision, Hux knows.

On the far side of the hill is a cleverly disguised opening that appears to lead directly into the ground.

“His whole complex is underground?” Hux can’t help but ask. Ren nods, his jaw set. “I’ll lead the way,” he states. “There’s enough illumination to see by on the way down.”

The way in appears to be hewn out of the rock, but further down, lights begin to appear from where they are installed into the walls. Rock is replaced in areas by durasteel, an ugly if functional combination. It makes Hux years for the smooth, elegant planes of the _Finalizer_.

At last, after a long and dark descent, they arrive at a set of doors, carved of an indeterminate material.

“Here we are,” says Ren, who steps forward to push them open. Nervously, Hux follows behind him, soothing Carmina with a long stroke of her feathers.

The hall is long and nearly empty, the ceiling high and supported by a series of pillars. Their footsteps echo as Hux and Ren approach the figure at the far end of the chamber, who sits propped up in an oversized throne of rock.

When Snoke rises from his throne, Ren falls to his knees, bowing his head in subservience. Hux, unsure of whether to follow suit, does the same after a few panicked moments. Snoke towers above them, well over seven feet tall and unbelievably intimidating.

“Rise,” he commands, and Hux gets back on his feet, brushing dust off his knees. “General,” Snoke continues, and Hux straightens into perfect military posture as he is addressed. “You have brought my servant back to me in one piece. I am glad to see that your competence has not diminished in the wake of your base’s destruction.”

Hux struggles to hold his head high as he speaks, remembering Ren’s warnings about how to address Snoke. “Supreme Leader, I have brought the _Finalizer_ here as you requested. The First Order awaits your instruction, as always.”

Snoke hums vaguely. “Good. Your flagship will remain here, in the safety of the Outer Rim, until Kylo Ren’s training is complete. In the meantime, rebuild your fleet and await further commands. You must learn patience, General. It can be dangerous to get too far ahead of oneself.”

Stunned, Hux nods, dropping his gaze. Carmina practically trembles with the urge to speak to him through their connection, but he urges her mentally to keep quiet, reminding her that they are in the direct presence of a mind-reader. Snoke’s orders were certainly not what he had expected, but he is not about to contradict them.

“And you, Kylo Ren.” Snoke turns to Ren, and Hux lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You did well to end Han Solo. Yet you were defeated by a mere scavenger girl. This speaks to the importance of further training.”

Ren blanches and gives a quick nod.

“You have much still to learn. Do not be distracted by the mundane world. My teachings alone are enough to sustain you.” Hux is beginning to think he shouldn’t be hearing this, growing more uncomfortable with each second that Snoke’s sinister, paternal gaze lingers on Ren.

Snoke stretches out his hand, as if to caress Ren’s face, but then he isn’t reaching for Ren, long bony fingers closing instead upon-

“No!” Carmina shrieks, in a moment of uncharacteristic fury, just as Snoke’s hand settles on Acerbyx’s dark neck plumage.

Hux can’t breathe, can’t move, feels only a massive, overpowering wave of sickness and horror, accompanied by the sharp prick of Carmina’s talons gouging through his uniform shirt and into the flesh of his shoulder. He bites his lower lip hard, nearly breaking the skin to keep from crying out at the travesty happening before him. Carmina has fallen silent, her keen eyes fixed inexorably on the scene.

Ren stands stiffly still, fists clenched at his side, his blank gaze focused firmly ahead. Snoke’s fingers continue to stroke Acerbyx’s ink-dark feathers in a cruel parody of affection: he seems to have forgotten about Hux entirely, focused on his violation of Ren and his daemon. This goes on for perhaps twenty seconds, each moment more revolting than the last.

“You are dismissed, General Hux,” says Snoke at last, and Hux scarcely manages a slight bow before he turns and all but runs from the chamber. Carmina, unable to help herself, turns on his shoulder and catches one last glimpse of Ren’s motionless figure and Snoke’s face, split wide by a smile.

~

Hux barely makes it to the nearest ‘fresher on the shuttle before bile rises into his throat and he’s doubled over the toilet on his knees, retching hoarsely as his stomach voids itself. Carmina flaps about the small room, keening with agitation and incoherent with shock. Hux hasn’t seen her this upset since Starkiller, but this time, there’s no need to feign composure in front of any onlookers.

“Oh, Hux, what was that, what the fuck was that?” she shrieks, her voice bouncing chaotically off the walls of the otherwise empty ‘fresher. Hux knows that, like him, she’s replaying the scene in her mind on an endless loop. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth.

“The way he was _stroking_ her, like she was his-!”

“Snoke isn’t human,” says Hux as he straightens up, his voice shakier than he would typically tolerate. “Maybe he sees himself as above the taboo. He’s Ren’s master, after all.”

“He’s _our_ master too, Hux!” Carmina cries, feathers puffing out with anxiety as she settles on the top of the stall door. “You wouldn’t let him touch me, would you?”

“Oh, Mina, never, I’d sooner die-“ he professes with utter sincerity, and finally his daemon flutters down to perch on his arm, held close and safe to Hux as he pets her feathers back in long, soothing motions, her head tucked beneath his chin. The image of Snoke’s cruel alien fingers reaching for his daemon threatens to bring up a fresh round of bile, but the comforting feedback of his hand on Carmina’s feathers loops back to Hux through their connection, and gradually he finds himself calming.

“Poor Acerbyx,” she croons, and he hushes her again. “Did you see her, Hux, how she reacted?”

“I was busy watching Ren,” he replies. “He just…stood there, sort of. Letting it happen.”

“Yes, that’s how Acerbyx was too. I saw her, I knew she wasn’t resisting, wasn’t even going to try.”

“Hux,” she says, tensing once more under his hand, “I don’t think that’s the first time the Supreme Leader has done that to them.”

Hux suppresses a shiver. “I don’t think so, either,” he murmurs, after a long pause. His thoughts travel back to Ren and Acerbyx, at Snoke’s mercy in that great cold chamber. How many times had Ren been called there?

“Maybe it’s part of that ‘training’ he’s always on about,” he supplies.

Carmina hisses in disgust. “That’s no training, Hux, that’s just sadism. That’s sick and fucked up and the Supreme Leader should _know_ better, I don’t care what species he is.” He hears the rest of her thoughts and feels her conjure up images of disciplined Stormtroopers in ranks, their daemons obedient and uniform beside them.

_We trained those troopers, Hux, we did it well and proper and never dreamed of laying a hand on their daemons. That’s sort of conditioning that leads to order and progress. Not this. Never this. We’ve done many things for the good of the First Order, but there’s got to be a limit somewhere. I can’t stand for this._

Hux mentally urges her away from those dangerously traitorous thoughts; they are, after all, still in the direct vicinity of the Supreme Leader’s meeting chamber. The pair fall silent, contemplating the new reality of an omniscient, daemon-touching master, held to no human standards. The violation of that taboo- so rare that even the worst of criminals would scarcely venture it, save for a few sociopaths or alien torturers- typically had some kind of motive, be it incapacitation of an opponent or a last-ditch attempt at extracting information (a technique which, to Hux’s knowledge, had never been practiced as part of First Order protocol). Try as he may, Hux cannot divine any reason for what the Supreme Leader had done- is likely doing at this moment- to Ren.

_Why do you think he did it in front of us?_ Carmina, attuned as she is to his thoughts, voices the wordless concern that had been hanging at the back of his mind.

_I can’t say._ He pauses, an unpleasant thought forming. _Maybe it was a threat to us. Of what could happen, should we displease him._ They both shudder at that, Carmina’s claws gripping his arm a bit more tightly.

_Could be. The way he did it was very…possessive, don’t you think?_

_And?_

Carmina shifts, pressing closer to him before replying. _I think he wanted to give us an example of the authority he has over Acerbyx. He wanted to prove how much he owns the both of them. To dispel any ideas we might have had about Ren’s independence, about how far the two of them can range without Snoke’s explicit permission._

Hux isn’t satisfied with that explanation- he’s never questioned who Ren really obeys, and Snoke must know that. No doubt he’s read Hux’s thoughts on more than a few occasions, prior to his attempts to shield them. He and Carmina have always suspected that Ren’s goals did not entirely align with those of the First Order, and that the only real reason he operated on the _Finalizer_ was because his master had ordered it of him.

_What illusions would we have about who Ren answers to?_

_He’s paranoid, Hux. Frightened of losing control over his mercurial pupil. Ren is obsessively devoted, but I get the sense that his loyalty could be…diverted elsewhere._

Cautiously, Carmina pushes a few of their riskier visions into Hux’s mind- armadas of ships under his command, the First Order banner flown high from planet to planet, millions bowing before him, but more than that, a new title. Emperor Hux and his falcon daemon, no longer slaves to the will of a decrepit Sith wizard, bringing about a new age of order and justice.

Ren has a place here, too. There could certainly be made room at the Emperor’s side for a loyal Force user.

Hux shoves away the pleasing images of an impossible empire and a domesticated Ren with considerable will. _Stop that_ , he thinks loudly to Carmina. _The last thing we need is the Supreme Leader thinking our ambition outweighs our usefulness. It’s imperative that he never_ _find out about these little fantasies you’re so talented at conjuring up_.

_Oh, it’s my fault, then,_ Carmina replies. _Well, if it’s fantasies you’re so concerned about…_

Slyly, she brings up a whole reel of images- Ren’s strangely elegant hands clutching his helmet, the liquid fall of his hair about his face, Acerbyx’s graceful wings in flight.

_Enough._ This time, it takes even more effort to will away Carmina’s taunting recollections. Hux reddens slightly, to her tangible amusement.

Carmina nips his finger playfully. At least some of her good humor seems to have returned to her. _You forget that you can’t lie to me. We’re the same being, Hux. No secrets here._

_No shame either, it would seem_ , he replies curtly, but not unkindly. _I think we’ve both agreed that the pair of them are a pain in our collective ass. Regardless of how_ pretty _you think his daemon is._

_You like his face_ , Carmina jabs back. _He’s got one of those odd faces you’ve always been weak for. Besides, this could be useful._

_How could any of this nonsense possibly be useful?_

Carmina pauses thoughtfully. _If our conclusions about his display today are correct, Snoke thinks we have designs upon Ren. Which we do, somewhat, if our greatest achievement ever should come to pass. But we can’t let him know that, under any circumstances. Let him find something else, instead, should he ever go rooting through our minds. Better Snoke thinks you’re lusting after Ren than grooming him to be your future bodyguard._ She pauses. _Or consort. Same difference._

_That will be quite enough of that,_ he sends back, with what he hopes is an air of finality on the subject, though he can feel her triumphant smugness already. She knows she’s right, and she knows he knows it, and that he’s filing away her cunning idea for future usage at this very moment.

It’s the sort of misdirection that Hux can respect, really. And if it keeps them from being executed for treasonous thought-crimes, then all the better. The lessons from Ren have certainly helped ease his mind, but there’s no reason not to take extra precautions. These are the sort of things that one has to plan for when one has a mind-reading overlord who seems to enjoy meting out cruel and unusual punishment on the regular.

The two of them take a moment to regain their composure, and Hux lets his usual mask of professionalism fall over his face once more. Carmina returns with pride to her place on his shoulder as he pushes the ‘fresher door open, straightens his greatcoat, and begins a brisk pace back to the shuttle’s control room, already running schedules and figures in his head, white noise to drown the image of overlarge fingertips settling on black feathers.

~

The day proceeds as usual, though Hux can’t shake the memory of what happened in that meeting. He doesn’t see Ren, which is a relief; he’s not sure what he would even say to the man. The remnants of Carmina’s indignant anger seep into him, bubbling just under his skin, until one lieutenant’s slip-up has him berating the unfortunate man in front of the whole bridge.

It eats away at him even during his off-hours. Every misgiving he’d had about Snoke’s leadership seems to have been reanimated, and all at once they claw away at his already-frazzled mind. He needs to take action; it’s the only way he’ll feel better, but what can he do? When a population refuses to accept the First Order, he can respond in a number of ways: sending a delegation, raising the stakes of the agreement, or simply sending in a wave of Stormtroopers to change the minds of the leaders there. When some technical problem comes to light onboard the _Finalizer_ , he’s among the first there, examining and assessing what needs to be done to fix it quickly and accurately.

Yet when it comes to his conflict with Snoke, Hux finds himself paralyzed, unsure of whom to trust, terrified of losing his position over what may have been a misunderstanding.

_That was no misunderstanding,_ Carmina grumbles. _And besides, I know who we can trust._

_Not Ren,_ he sends back immediately. _He already suspects us of acting against his master._

_I’m not talking about Ren_ , she responds. _Who of your colleagues do you consider particularly competent and singularly loyal? Who has listened to your concerns for years and never breathed a word of it?_

Hux stops short in a hallway and nearly causes a passing Stormtrooper to trip over him. _Oh, Mina. You’re a genius._

_I’ve always been the cleverer of the two of us. Grab a meeting room and call her in, then. I’ve missed Irnik anyway._

~

With the familiar _beep_ of ID recognition, the door to the small meeting room slides open.

“Sir?”

Captain Phasma stands outside, gleaming in her chrome armor, her husky daemon Irnik at her side. Carmina has always gotten along well with Phasma’s daemon; she finds his deep, even voice reassuring. For Hux’s part, he and Phasma have a long history of productive cooperation bordering on friendship, and he respects her perhaps more than perhaps any other person on this ship.

“Captain Phasma. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me.”

“Not at all, General.” She takes a seat at the table with him, Irnik settling on the ground beside her. “You’re far busier than I am anyways.”

Hux sighs. “Much must be done to restore the First Order after what happened at Starkiller Base.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe it’s as catastrophic as you may feel it is. Most of our personnel were able to make it off base. That’s where our value lies, not in our technology but our people. My troopers remain ready as ever to serve the First Order,” she adds, a note of reassurance in her voice.

Phasma has never had to say much to get her point across, and Hux has always trusted her opinion on the Stormtroopers. After all, she’s in charge of the lot of them. He also trusts her to tell him the truth, even at the cost of his feelings, which she has not failed to do in the past. If she believes the troopers aren’t secretly rallying to have him removed from his position, he’ll take her word for it. Phasma is clever and loyal, but not overly ambitious. From what Hux can tell, she likes her position because it makes full use of her skills as trainer and warrior. He can’t see her attempting to depose him in the future, which is part of why he’s choosing her to speak with on certain sensitive matters.

“Thank you, Phasma. Your opinion is valued, as always. I don’t believe I was able to tell you this before, but I was very relieved to hear you made it off the planet safely. No one was sure of your location for a time.”

The glossy helmet stares back at him as Phasma pauses. “I appreciate it, sir.”

“I imagine these few days haven’t been easy for you, either.” He offers her a wan smile.

“Indeed they have not. But I’m managing. As are you, it would seem.”

Hux has some reservations about the topic he plans on bringing up to Phasma, but she’s always abhorred small talk, as does Hux. He decides to just get right to the point. If his and Carmina’s intuition is correct, Phasma will be able to provide them with some valuable advice. If not… well, she’s of a lower rank than him, and he’s not planning on saying anything that will directly incriminate him.

“I’d like your opinion on a matter that has become increasingly urgent, from my point of view. It concerns the orders handed down from the Supreme Leader.”

He can hear her draw in a slow breath. “If I might speak freely, sir?”

“You may.”

She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Recently, I’ve been losing more troopers on missions ordered by the Supreme Leader. I would understand if this were solely due to the increased number of engagements we’ve had with the Resistance, but…I take issue, personally, with some of the strategic decisions being made. I’ve never seen these kinds of losses before, and to waste human life in such an uncertain stage of our progress seems rather needless.” Her helmeted head lifts to meet Hux’s gaze. “General, I assure you my loyalty to the First Order is as strong as ever-“

“I agree with you completely,” says Hux, and Phasma’s shoulders relax visibly.

“Oh,” she breathes. “That is a relief, sir. The last thing I would want is to be considered guilty of insubordination against the Supreme Leader.”

“He won’t find out,” Hux states firmly. “Not if I have any say in it. I’ve noticed many of the same things you have, and I agree that many of the decisions being made seem to be directly detrimental to the First Order. I suppose your troopers aren’t pleased about this either?”

“Correct, sir. They know the decisions aren’t coming from you, which is what worries them. Under your command, the First Order has flourished. I fear what will happen if we continue taking cues from someone not directly involved in the military.”

Hux leans back, steepling his fingers in his lap. “And what if, theoretically, the chain of command were restructured, so to speak, to place someone with direct military experience at the top?”

Phasma doesn’t react visibly, but Irnik cocks his head in interest. “When might such a change occur, if I may ask?”

“Possibly soon. It’s my belief, Captain, that the Supreme Leader’s interest in the First Order is waning. His eventual abandonment is a strong possibility, which is why I believe in preparing for it in advance.”

“What about Lord Ren?” she asks. “Will he not interfere on his master’s behalf?”

The mention of Ren brings back the vivid memory of that morning, and Hux can scarcely keep from cringing. “The Supreme Leader’s disregard for human life appears to extend to his own apprentice. In the meeting this morning, he…he touched Ren’s daemon.”

Phasma gasps aloud, the helmet augmenting the sound of it. Irnik’s grey-white head jerks up from the floor.

“Carmina, did he really-?” the husky growls. Carmina nods, shivering almost imperceptibly.

“He did. We weren’t expecting it, but he did it right in front of us.”

“And is he human?” Phasma demands, her voice low.

“No,” Hux confesses. “His identity is supposed to be secret, but I suppose you already know enough. He’s an alien, a species I’ve never seen before. Clearly he holds some disdain for humans.”

“I’d say that extends beyond disdain,” Phasma hisses. “General, if this being is the one commanding all of the First Order, you have my full support in whatever measures you take to free us of him. I don’t care what history he has, whether he’s got any true tie to the old Empire or not. This isn’t a productive direction for the First Order to be moving in. I’ve felt that way for a decently long time now.”

Hux hadn’t expected her to react so violently, but her support comes as a relief. “Thank you, Phasma. I will keep you updated on any developments in the situation. In the meantime, oversee your troopers as always. Keep the most competent ones out of unnecessary combat whenever possible. It’s the only thing we can do for now without directly going against the Supreme Leader.”

She nods briskly. “Understood. You can trust me, General.”

She leaves shortly afterward, her footfalls heavy, apparently still seething with anger over Snoke’s actions. Hux breathes out slowly, resting his head in his hands.

“Feels like a weight off us, doesn’t it? Telling her, letting her in on the plan,” says Carmina. Hux nods in agreement.

“It’s good to have her on our side,” he replies.

He’s still unsure of whose side Ren is on.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s late by the time Hux leaves his clandestine meeting with Phasma, but he knows one person who might still be awake, and for whom he has a number of questions. He strides down the hall to Ren’s quarters, where he expects to find the man, assuming Snoke isn’t still torturing him down on his planet. He presses the buzzer once, then twice when Ren doesn’t immediately appear at the door.

After a few moments, the metallic door slides open, and Hux is greeted with a glare from Ren.

“You could have waited more than five seconds to hit the buzzer again,” he grumbles.

“I wasn’t sure you’d even be here,” Hux replies primly, stepping inside. “If you’re up for it, I’d like another training session.”

“You’re here to ask questions,” says Ren as he closes the door. He sounds exhausted, and Hux wonders what Snoke had him doing after he and Carmina had left.

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t suppose you’ll want to answer them anyway.” He takes a seat on one of Ren’s utilitarian chairs.

Ren crosses his bare arms over his chest, the new scar on his shoulder in full view. “Training first. Then I’ll consider your questions.”

“Fair enough,” Hux replies. “I’m ready whenever you are.” The door to Ren’s bedroom is open now, and Hux catches a glimpse of what appears to be some sort of cluttered pile, metallic bits poking out here and there.

“What’s all that over there?” he can’t help but ask. “Do the maintenance droids never come in here to clean your mess up?”

The hint of a flush appears on Ren’s cheekbones. “I was going to take care of it myself; the droids aren’t allowed in here. They’re, er, trophies. From my missions.”

Hux can’t help but laugh. “For goodness’ sake, Ren. What have you got piled up over there? Don’t tell me you’ve got the skulls of your enemies lined up on your shelves.”

Ren smirks. “A good guess, but not quite. I’m sure you’d love to find out what’s in my collection.”

“I just wouldn’t have taken you for a hoarder, that’s all.” This sort of teasing is a bit different from Hux’s usual critical ribbing of Ren, less pointed and vicious. Hux finds himself unwilling to draw anger and frustration out of Ren for his own amusement now, not after what he’s seen.

The lesson begins much as the last one had. Ren urges him, again and again, to calm his mind, which seems impossible given how this day has gone. He picks memories, recent and old, to hide from Ren, who inevitably finds them. It would be unbearably frustrating were it not for the fact that it’s taking Ren a longer and longer time to pluck his thoughts from his head. Carmina assists in tamping down his emotional responses, sharpening his focus on the task at hand. Her pride in his abilities keeps him going.

“Let’s try something different,” says Ren, after perhaps a dozen attempts. “Your shielding has improved, but you still tend to project your feelings, which can be as telling as your thoughts. This is something I have trouble with, too,” he admits, like he’s trying to make Hux feel better about this personal failure. Trying to relate, once more, in his own strange way. “This is something that will come more easily when you have meditation experience. I don’t suppose you’ve had time to practice that.”

“I have not,” says Hux, without shame. He’s still not certain of what meditation is meant to do for him. He’ll try it if his other tactics don’t work first.

“You need to relax,” Ren intones. “Clear your mind.”

“You do realize you’re asking me to do this at possibly the most stressful time in my life?”

“Which is why it’s all the more important,” Ren retorts. “If you can do this, I’ll answer your questions. Anything you want to know. Within reason,” he adds hastily.

“What a reward. I’m incredibly motivated,” Hux deadpans.

“Oh, come on, Hux, let’s try it. Maybe this will help us sleep,” Carmina suggests. “Remember sleep? Remember how nice that was?”

Acerbyx chuckles. It’s the first time Hux has ever heard her laugh.

“Alright,” he concedes. “What do I need to do?”

Ren nearly smiles. “The breathing is the most basic part. Once you master that, you have a good foundation to build on. I like to breathe in for seven counts, hold it for seven more, and then breathe out over another seven. Try it. Close your eyes if it helps.”

Hux obeys, mostly because Ren’s intense gaze is growing difficult to hold. He feels ridiculous, sitting here in Kylo Ren’s rooms, doing nothing but breathing as Ren observes him. It feels wrong, to spend time on something so unproductive, he’s not used to it-

“And there you go again,” comes Ren’s voice. “You’re worrying again, about this exercise. I can sense it.”

Flustered, he tries his best to regain his focus, and for a minute he breathes peacefully, with few mental interruptions. It’s not long before the old thoughts return and derail the meditation, and Ren stops him again when he becomes too distracted to concentrate.

After a few more attempts, Ren begins to instruct him on not projecting his emotions.

“It’s very difficult to remember in the moment. This practice is simple enough to carry out within the confines of your room, but when you’re stressed, or angry, or confused, your emotions can blind you, and any strong Force-sensitive around you will be able to feel them instantly.” He pauses, considering. “In fact, I think you could probably attune yourself to the emotions of those around you, if you wanted to practice that.”

“No thank you,” says Hux quickly. “I have enough to deal with on the inside of my own head.”

Ren shrugs. “That’s understandable. Shall we try again?”

This time, Hux is made to conjure up emotions, push them outward to Ren, then extinguish them to the best of his ability. The one that he finds easiest to experience on command is, unsurprisingly, annoyance. It doesn’t take much to evoke it- some choice memories from the past few days work nicely.

Ren is clearly trying not to laugh when Hux successfully pushes down his latest attempt. “I would never have guessed so much irritation could be contained in a single body, General.”

Hux snorts. “It’s part of the job. And you can call me Hux, you know.”

A look of surprise passes over Ren’s face, replaced with a vaguely pleased expression. “Hux. Fair enough.”

“Do I get to ask my questions now?” Hux presses. Ren frowns, considering.

“I suppose you can. It’s getting late, and I can sense how troubled you are.”

Hux wouldn’t put it quite so melodramatically, but his worries about Snoke, the First Order’s future, and admittedly, Ren, have filled his mind almost completely throughout the day. He wants some answers, even if they turn out to be more disturbing than revelatory. Which he suspects they may, considering the nature of Ren as a person.

“Why did you let Snoke do that today?” It’s the first thing on his mind. “During that meeting, when I was there. I’m sure you can understand why I would find such a thing upsetting.”

Ren has the decency to at least look guilty. “I’m sorry about that,” he admits. “I hadn’t expected him to do that in front of you.”

“That’s- the problem isn’t that he did it in front of me, Ren, it’s that he did it at all in the first place. And what do you mean by _expected_ \- are you saying he’s done this before?” He’s on the verge of outrage now.

“Yes,” says Ren simply. “My master has done this before. I imagine this will not be the last time either.”

“Why?” Hux sputters. He feels Carmina’s grip on his shoulder tighten. “I mean, what reason could he possibly have for _touching your daemon_?”

Ren pushes one hand through his hair and lets out a long breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He doesn’t even sound haughty, just resigned.

“Then explain it to me,” Hux insists.

Ren fidgets under Hux’s gaze, avoiding his eyes as he speaks. “My master wishes to remind me, whenever necessary, that he is the one who created me. That I am without purpose, without direction should I ever stray from him. He owns me, body and soul. And if my soul is my daemon, then he has as much a right to her as I do.”

Hux is too stunned to even feel anger. He’d known Ren must have been somewhat brainwashed, to defer to Snoke like he does, but this is beyond the pale.

“It was only after my first true task for him- taking Skywalker’s best apprentices, turning them to the Dark, destroying what was left of his academy- that Acerbyx settled. I was sixteen.”

Sixteen, Hux notes distantly, is an uncommonly late age for a daemon to settle. Most do so from twelve to fourteen, during the years of puberty.

Ren continues. “My master was the one who gave her permission to settle. He said that by fulfilling his will, I had become a man. Did you know, he chose her form?” he adds casually.

Hux shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his voice right now.

“Leader Snoke decided that Acerbyx would be a raven. It is what he deemed appropriate.” The daemon herself apparently has little to say on the topic, if the way she stares blankly at the opposite wall is any indicator.

“Why a raven?” Hux manages. “What were his reasons?”

Ren looks uncomfortable. “He said she would look intimidating at my side. A fitting daemon for a pupil of the Dark Side, he said. Apparently there are some myths relating ravens to death. I didn’t know that at the time.”

Silence falls.

“Intimidating,” Hux pronounces slowly. He stands suddenly from his chair, Carmina fluttering silently up to her usual place on his shoulder. “I have to go.” He heads for the door.

“Hux, listen,” comes Ren’s apologetic voice.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Hux shoots back, already pressing the button to let himself out. His voice comes out less enraged and more pleading than he would really like. “Good evening, Ren.”

“Hux-“

The door shuts, and Hux walks back to his quarters as quickly as his feet can take him, trying to look as though he isn’t fleeing something. _All the meditation in the world couldn’t save me now_ , he thinks to no one in particular.

The settled form of a daemon is near-sacred, a representation of a human’s soul in animal form. Though daemons can settle in a wide spectrum of species, they differentiate themselves from their true animal counterparts, those not attached to humans and without the intelligence and insight of a daemon. Hux still remembers the day he’d woken and found Carmina in her permanent form. He’d known, even without asking, that from that moment on she would never shift again. It was with pride and wonder that she’d explored her hawk form, Hux at her side.

Hux has never known of any daemon that could settle on command. It was considered impossible for someone other than their human to have that sort of control over a daemon. And to go so far as to demand a certain _species_ on top of that-

_This is madness,_ Carmina murmurs. _This is worse than we had thought._

_I wish I hadn’t asked,_ is his response. _We’d be better off not knowing how fucked-up this business with Snoke is._

_No,_ Carmina responds fiercely. _I’m glad we know now. It explains so much about Acerbyx. I need to talk to her, soon._

Hux turns the corner to his quarters, eager to put as much distance between himself and Ren as possible. _We are not going back to them. I don’t fancy being dragged into this. No, we stay firmly on the sidelines and don’t interfere. That’s final._

_Hux, for the love of-_

He slams the buzzer to the door with more force than is necessary. _Leave it, Carmina. We can’t do anything to help them._

For the rest of the night, Carmina refuses to speak to him. Hux gives up and lets her sulk, though her silence does nothing for his nerves.

He’s forgotten how unpleasant it is to be alone in his own mind.

~

Hux is granted a scarce few days of relative peace, during which he does his best not to obsess over Ren and his truly unbelievable situation. Then, of course, Snoke sees fit to summon him again, alongside Ren, who he avoids looking at. He rarely indulges in such childish behavior, but the occasion seems to warrant it. Ren keeps sending him these concerned sidelong glances, as if he’s the one worrying about Hux. How absurd.

“There is something I require you to retrieve, Kylo Ren.” Snoke’s voice booms throughout the massive chamber. “An ancient Sith artifact, located on a planet not far from here. You know the one of which I speak.”

Ren nods mechanically.

“Retrieve it, and bring it here to me. It will form an essential component of your training.” Snoke turns, robes rustling, to face Hux. “And you, General, will accompany him.”

Hux doesn’t know what to say. “Supreme Leader, I can’t imagine I will be able to provide much help-“

_Don’t._ The warning voice in his head is not Carmina’s this time, but Ren’s. Hux forces him out with as much vicious effort as he can spare.

“-but it will be done,” he states instead. “I will reschedule my meetings on the _Finalizer_ for the mission.”

Snoke’s mouth twists unpleasantly. “Very good, General. Consider this a supplement to your basic knowledge about the Force.”

Confused, Hux can only nod.

“I will send you the coordinates so that you may leave this afternoon. Bring with you a squadron of Stormtroopers to stand guard while you search for the artifact. The Resistance has been particularly bold as of late. You are dismissed.”

As much as he wants to ask Ren why the hell he’s needed on some retrieval mission when there’s a whole flagship of personnel requiring his guidance, Hux keeps his mouth shut. When they return to the _Finalizer_ , the location’s coordinates are waiting. The journey there will take perhaps half an hour. Hux has a pilot ready a shuttle and changes into a uniform more fitting for the planet’s jungle climate. His greatcoat has served him well over the years, and he feels uncomfortably exposed without it.

The planet itself is nothing to write home about. It appears uninhabited, which is useful for their purposes. The troopers don’t ask questions as they file off the ship, a few pausing to take in the unfamiliar dense greenery. Many must have spent their formative years stationed on Starkiller Base, a climate in direct contrast with the one they find here.

They’ve scarcely made it a mile from the ship when Ren sidles up to him, hood drawn up about his face.

“They can’t come with us, you know,” he says, voice pitched low enough for only Hux to hear.

“And why is that?” Hux replies, already mentally preparing himself for some outlandish explanation, likely involving magic.

“The Force is too powerful here,” explains Ren, who truly never fails to disappoint when it comes to fanciful bullshit. “The Dark Side is particularly strong at the temple; that’s why it was built there. I can’t predict the effect it will have on your troopers, except that it will be likely detrimental to both their mental and physical health.”

“Of course, that’s why the Supreme Leader sent a whole squadron along with us,” Hux retorts. “I suppose I ought to stay behind too, then? For my own safety?”

Ren’s expression remains vaguely concerned as he replies, “The troopers were sent to secure the area and ensure no interference from the Resistance or any locals. You, General, will be coming with me. You are strong enough in the Dark Side that I do not believe you will come to any harm. Trust me on this.”

Hux vacillates between skepticism and annoyance before finally settling on a grudging sense of flattery. Ren thinks he’s strong. Ren wants Hux to trust him. What an absurd world they both live in.

“Fine, when should the troopers drop off and set up a perimeter?”

Ren’s gaze focuses on a point on the barely-visible horizon, beyond the treeline. “You’ll feel it. The presence of the Force in this place. I can sense it already, but it will become palpable to you very soon.”

And soon enough, it does. Surprisingly, it’s Carmina who senses it first.

“Can you feel it?” she whispers, an undercurrent of excitement carrying her words. “It’s like a pressure, like we’re underwater. It’s pulling at me.” This alone would alarm Hux, but then he feels it too, within minutes of Carmina’s comment. He’s felt changes in atmospheric pressure, the kind of discomfort that starts in the sinuses and drags on the shoulders. This is different. Hux feels as though something has a grip on his very mind and is pushing, pushing him down, almost to his knees.

He refuses to yield and marches steadily onward.

Ren, at the head of the platoon, stops and holds up his hand, bringing the troopers to a halt. He doesn’t turn around, seemingly still self-conscious about his face, which leaves Hux to do the explaining. As always.

“You will remain here and stand guard for enemy interference,” Hux barks, projecting his voice to reach the whole squadron. “The Supreme Leader has commanded that Lord Ren and I continue unaccompanied.” The troopers are experienced enough not to question him, and they move smoothly from one formation to another.

Hux turns to the highest-ranking trooper - a major, marked by their colored pauldron.

“If we have not returned within four hours-“

“Three hours,” Ren drawls, back still turned to the group.

Hux grits his teeth. “ _Three_ hours, then use the coordinates I gave you to send a retrieval party after Lord Ren and I. Until then, stay here and remain vigilant.” The trooper straightens up and gives a crisp salute.

Ren sweeps away in a swirl of robes, which in Hux’s opinion are entirely unsuited to a temperate jungle climate, and heads in the direction indicated by Hux’s coordinates. Hux gives one final nod to the Stormtrooper major and follows him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful art in this chapter is by [ gentlyrot ](%E2%80%9Dgentlyrot.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)!

The pressure grows heavier the further they walk. It’s not debilitating by any means, but it’s impossible to ignore. The landscape doesn’t help, either- the trees seem to cluster together at their tops, forming a high canopy. At any other time, on any other planet, it might be beautiful to look at. But here, it only succeeds in making Hux and Carmina both feel extremely claustrophobic. His daemon briefly attempts flight, but rising above the canopy tugs painfully at their connection, and Carmina is forced to descend. The undergrowth rises thick and dense to Hux’s ankles, so much that Ren is forced to unsheathe his crackling lighsaber and slice away at the vines and bushes that block their path. The humming noise it makes sounds almost like some massive alien swarm of bugs, bearing down upon them through the trees.

With Ren leading the way, efficiently hacking foliage aside to clear a path, they reach a clearing near the top of what looks to be a small mountain within an hour. It’s the highest point visible in the jungle landscape, and though he knows they should be moving on, the view is appreciable nonetheless, as is the sudden freedom and fresh air. Hux stops to enjoy it, turning to the edge of the vine-covered cliffs to observe the terrain stretched out below. Surprisingly, Ren also seems amenable to a short break and pauses alongside Hux, the breeze knocking back his hood and ruffling his dark hair.

The last time they’d both set foot on a real planet had been on Starkiller (Snoke’s asteroid of a base doesn’t qualify in Hux’s mind). The terrain had been so icy that it hadn’t been worth venturing outside except when absolutely necessary for construction, and even then, Hux had mostly planned builds from afar. Despite having spent most of his life shipside, he can’t deny how good it feels to be under the shade of trees again.

“It’s hardly comparable, is it?” says Ren, and Hux turns to him. Ren looks to be at home on this strange planet- whether it’s an effect of the Force here or simply his nature, Hux cannot tell. “The recycled air of the Finalizer, and… this.” The wind picks up ever so slightly, and Carmina rustles herself atop Hux’s shoulder. He can tell she wants to take off, to experience the wind currents for herself in the way she’s been denied for too long.

Next to him, Acerbyx stretches her wings and takes flight into the void over the cliff edge. She cuts a sharp outline against the sky, her long tail feathers fanning out as she chases the vents ever higher. Hux sucks in a breath as she climbs.

“She can go quite far from you, can’t she?” He murmurs, cupping a hand over his eyes to watch Ren’s daemon. Carmina grows impatient at the display. _Hux, please_ , she implores.

He relents, giving his silent permission, and Carmina takes off in a great downbeat of wings. She joins Acerbyx in the air, soaring effortlessly, and Hux can’t help but grin. He’s breathless with Carmina’s transmitted joy, both from flying and from something else that is harder to name. The two daemons draw closer, then separate, racing each other through the thin atmosphere.

Hux turns to find Ren helplessly smiling too, for once making no attempt to school his face back into a scowl. His eyes are soft, their usual frightening intensity absent; the dim sun glints off his teeth. It’s a good look for him, Hux decides. If Ren sees Hux staring, he makes no comment upon it. Their shoulders nearly brush when Hux leans over to watch Carmina.

The moment stretches on. The two men stand unmoving, the closest thing to peace they’ve both experienced in what seems like centuries. Hux feels the remnants of his frustration with Ren fall away, bit by bit. Further away, the daemons rise and fall to the whims of the air, communicating in their own unique way. The oppressive Force presence of the temple seems to lift temporarily, as if in respect of the scene.

And then it is over when Acerbyx flaps back to Ren’s arm, Carmina trailing behind her. Despite his usual commitment to efficiency, Hux finds himself wishing they could have stayed here longer, maybe even hours, simply standing together, letting their daemons play in the high air. Ren, to his credit, remains silent, merely turning to continue on the route to the blinking red dot on Hux’s datapad. Hux follows wordlessly behind him.

The route they take gradually becomes steeper, coming to a point below the low-hanging clouds. Here, the underbrush is thinner and drier, as if its proximity to the Sith temple drained it of life. The trees grow shorter, though Hux tells himself this is simply because of the altitude.

“We’re nearly there now,” says Ren, after a few more minutes of hiking. Hux is exceedingly glad to have forgone his usual uniform for something more suited to this sort of exploration- his greatcoat would never have survived the journey in one piece. His eardrums have begun to compress unpleasantly, warping the sound of their footsteps. Hux stumbles after Ren, who seems remarkably unaffected, a testament to his strength in the Force. A rocky path begins to appear in bits and pieces beneath their feet- here a carved slab, here a rune of some variety.

The path ends at the augmented mouth of a cave – apparently, the Sith had a flair for the dramatic. Upright stone monoliths, scarred by time, stand in a semicircle about the entrance. Apart from those, the cave appears to be a natural formation, most likely pre-existing and merely built upon by the Sith. Ren stops short, and Hux catches a glimpse of his face- pale and stricken, as though he’s walking the path to his own execution. He feels Carmina worrying vaguely in the back of his head.

“Stay close,” says Ren, sparing Hux a glance before stepping inside.

Hux isn’t sure how Ren intends to navigate in the dark cave- does the Force allow him to echolocate? The image of Ren, draped in black and batlike, making clicking noises in the darkness is too funny not to share mentally with Carmina. Up ahead, Hux hears Ren snort, the eavesdropper. He turns on his flashlight once the light from the cave’s mouth grows too dim to see by.

The light bounces off the rocky facets of the cave, illuminating more strange carvings on the walls. He catches sight of a humanoid carving holding aloft what looks to be a representation of a blade, surrounded by more hooded figures. The drawings progress linearly along the walls, though not in any narrative that Hux recognizes. Staring at them makes his head buzz in a way that is definitely not normal, and so he focuses on Ren up ahead and tries not to let fear seep into him.

“This place feels ancient,” Hux murmurs, mostly to himself, but Ren speaks up in response.

“It’s one of the oldest temples of its kind,” he replies. “Though to call it a temple is somewhat misleading. It was a place of learning, of experimentation in the Force. Even you would be impressed with some of what was accomplished here.”

The dark grows oppressive, as does the accompanying presence of the Force, and Ren falls back to walk alongside Hux. Hux isn’t sure whether this is for his benefit or Ren’s, remembering the man’s expression upon entering the complex. Every so often, the path will fork off, leading to more hidden hallways and arched rooms, and Ren will guide him in the right direction with a careful nudge. They’re apparently too far underground for Hux’s datapad to direct them accurately. Carmina dislikes being so far from the air- Hux can feel her intense discomfort. Acerbyx is scarcely visible, the jet-black of her feathers blending with the perfect darkness surrounding them.

Slowly, Hux becomes aware that they’ve been walking for quite a while. They must be far underground now, in these old and unused tunnels that could collapse at any minute, trapping them both here until they suffocate. That thought alone is enough to make Hux’s breath quicken, and he draws closer to Ren, as if somehow that will make him safer. Maybe Ren really could save them in case of a collapse. Hux pictures him lifting tons of heavy stone with the Force, clearing a way back to the light and air above. How strange, that Ren’s presence could be reassuring in a place like this.

At last, Ren pauses before a tall opening in the rock, presumably leading to another chamber.

“This is it.” Hux can hear a sort of tremble in his voice, the kind of thing the vocoder would normally eliminate. He shines the beam of the flashlight through the jagged doorway. It glints off something metallic several meters away.

Hux grows increasingly conscious of the unsettling silence in this area, as well as the heavy pressure on his shoulders, threatening to close around his throat. Carmina confirms his misgivings with a thought of her own. _Something terrible happened here, Hux. I can feel it somehow. And not just once; over and over again. Those experiments Ren was talking about…_

She trails off as Ren advances, unafraid of the malevolence lurking in this chamber. “It’s here, somewhere. Sweep the beam around. I can’t pinpoint it myself, there’s too much interference.”

Hux complies, moving the flashlight in a slow horizontal arc. There it is again, that odd glimmer of something sharp and lethal. As much as he wants to discount Carmina’s uncharacteristic soothsaying, he can feel a certain wrongness himself. He’s been in torture chambers, visited jails and asylums. What he’d felt in those places is amplified here.

“There.” Ren stalks toward the unknown object. There’s a faint _chink_ as he picks it up, and his slow footsteps echo as he returns to Hux. His scarred, split face looks ghastly in the dramatic shadows cast by the beam of light.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and though Hux wants to ask about the artifact, he’s far more enthusiastic about the prospect of leaving this place. Dutifully, he walks side by side with Ren on the way back out of the temple, perhaps a little more quickly than he had walked in.

It’s only when the fresh air hits their faces again that Hux breaks the silence between them.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Hux asks, filled with a perverse curiosity. Ren pauses, then looks guiltily away as his hands extend forward, carefully displaying the artifact to Hux.

It’s as if alarm bells have been activated in Hux’s mind, clanging and screaming in response to the object Ren holds proffered. Something is wrong, wrong, wrong about it, something in its knifelike shape, in the woven wires hanging off its hilt, in its cruel and vile edge of unknown metal.

Carmina _shrieks_ and flutters backward, tugging in panic at Hux with her claws, and he begins to understand.

The carvings on the wall. The experiments performed here. Ren’s fear, Snoke’s plan, the unstable tension between him and Acerbyx, her angry words spat at him, _I can’t wait to be rid of you-_

“Get that thing away from us!” he finds himself yelling, and Ren quickly slips the abomination into the folds of his robe. When Hux finally steadies, he’s been pulled a good few feet away from Ren, his tall figure fully visible now in the light. Ren looks horribly contrite, his expression pleading for understanding, for acceptance that will never come. His hands are open, slightly outstretched towards Hux.

“Why would he send you- why does Snoke need that th-“ Hux starts, but Ren is shaking his great dark head already, cutting him off.

“You know why,” he says, so unhappy, so resigned. “Tell me, Hux. You’ve figured it out already.”

Hux stops, breathes in ugly gulps of air. Carmina is silent, unnaturally so, in shock from what she knows now to be the truth.

“He’s going to sever you.” His voice comes out small and afraid. “He’s going to cut the two of you apart, like they did in this place centuries ago.”

Ren nods and pats the place in his robes where the knife sits, the one that will saw away at his connection with Acerbyx until there is nothing left between them but empty air and two emptier beings.

“My master sent me to retrieve this for the process. The intercision will be Force-based, unlike most, which gives it a higher chance of success.” He straightens up almost imperceptibly. “I will succeed. I am stronger than the others. The Supreme Leader will perfect me into the weapon I was born to be for him. Nothing will hold me back anymore.”

“What about Acerbyx?” Carmina cries out. “Don’t you care at all about your daemon, about what will happen to her?” Hux can feel her fury at the both of them.

“Acerbyx will remain under my master’s care. It will be…convenient, this way. On the battlefield, no one will be able to kill me by targeting Acerbyx. We will both be better off.”

Hux remembers Snoke’s possessive caress of Ren’s daemon and staggers back another few steps, feeling as though he might be sick all over again. He doubles over, holding his head in his hands, uncaring of how Ren will perceive this weakness.

“Stop it. Don’t make me listen to this,” he chokes out.

He hears Ren’s footsteps approaching and does not look up. Ren hovers over him, unsure of how to proceed. Hux doesn’t want to look at him.

“You have to understand, Hux. This was his plan for me all along. I’ve known it since before Starkiller was destroyed. This is the final stage of my training.”

Hux rocks back and forth on his heels, holding Carmina close in his arms.

“Do you know what ended Darth Vader?” Ren waits for an answer, then proceeds anyway when none is forthcoming. “It wasn’t Luke Skywalker. It was sentiment. It was his daemon who told him to turn on the Emperor. My master has a theory, you see, that daemons are our connection to the Light. Doesn’t Carmina call herself your conscience?”

Hux’s head snaps up to address Ren through gritted teeth. “Carmina is my _everything_ , you stupid bastard. She’s my fucking _soul_ , she’s what makes me human. Snoke can have all the theories he likes, but he’s an alien, and this is one thing that he will never understand.”

Ren’s gaze flicks away in shame at Hux’s outburst.

A few more seconds pass before Hux speaks again, still holding Carmina close, though she’s obviously not Ren’s target.

“You can’t truly be so brainwashed as to think this will strengthen you. Killing your father didn’t do it. This will destroy you, Ren.”

Ren’s expression flickers visibly at the mention of his father. His mouth twists once before he speaks again.

“Do you really think I have a choice?”

Hux’s stomach sinks. He takes one step, then another towards Ren.

“Yes, Ren, you must have some say in this. Tell him of your misgivings, explain to him how he’s misunderstood the connection between humans and daemons. There must be something you can do!”

Ren gravely shakes his head, eyes dull. “I cannot disobey my master. I must trust his judgment no matter what, even if it leads to my death. Obedience is all I know, Hux, you must understand that.”

Carmina speaks up again. “Acerbyx, you’re telling me you don’t have a problem with this? With being cut apart from your human and kept by Snoke forever?” But Acerbyx does not reply.

Hux is silent for a minute, weighing his words.

“I just have one question, Ren. Why did Snoke send me along on this mission? Couldn’t you have done this yourself, without dragging me along?”

Ren scuffs a foot in the dirt, a strikingly childlike gesture, like one reprimanded. “I believe my master feared I would back out at the last moment and fail, were I unaccompanied. And…I think he wanted you to see this as well. To know that I am…owned. By one person only.”

Hux’s ears burn with humiliation as he swiftly turns on his heel and sets off back down the path, leaving Ren and his madness behind. Of course Snoke couldn’t leave him out of this. Of course Hux wouldn’t escape this without punishment. The Supreme Leader had seen his affection for Ren and naturally saw fit to have him accompany Ren down the path to his execution.

Because whatever would be left of Ren after the intercision would not be Ren at all, but a voided vessel, unambitious and completely obedient, ready to carry out Snoke’s every command until his death. The clumsy, strange man he’d grown to actually _care_ for (and it’s only now that he can admit this to himself, too late as always) would be gone forever, destroyed by the whim of an uncaring master. Snoke can hurt Hux and control Ren in one efficient move, killing two birds with one stone. The adage seems uncannily relevant now.

There’s tears in his eyes, of fury and grief, and he rages at the unfairness of it all.

“Hux!” He can hear Ren calling after him, tripping down the mountain, but Hux merely picks up his pace. He doesn’t want to see Ren’s face now, not when he’ll soon be a shell of a human being. It’s too much to handle at once.

Ren, with his stupid long legs, catches up within a minute, but he lingers a few deferential feet behind, leaving Hux some much-needed space. Hux stomps through the underbrush, uncaring of what goes crushed beneath his feet. If there’s ever any time to be immature and childish, it’s absolutely now. Let Ren be the adult for once.

“Hux, listen to me. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Really?” he can’t help but snarl back. “Because you seem to be uniquely capable of doing exactly that.”

“I don’t understand why you care so much!” Ren calls, frustration cracking his voice. “This doesn’t affect you at all. You should be happy to have me out of your hair soon- you won’t have to compete with me anymore.”

“Shut up, you vicious child!”

Ren does not shut up. “I don’t understand. Why are you angry?”

Hux whirls around to face him, face contorted in fury. “I don’t want to hear another damned word out of you, Ren, is that clear? And don’t you dare read my thoughts either.”

Ren seems taken aback but nods slowly, his face hardening. Just for good measure, Hux throws up his mental barriers, the ones that Ren himself had helped him develop. Hux turns and continues his march back towards camp, fueled by his anger. The guilt will almost certainly hit later, which is even more unfair, since it’s Ren who should be feeling guilty. He’s the one who should be apologizing, but he can’t seem to get it through his thick head that what he plans to do will wound what little of Hux’s humanity he has managed to gather back together after Starkiller. Ren was supposed to be a universal constant, he was supposed to be _safe_ , so why is this happening? Wasn’t the loss of his base punishment enough? What was the point of dragging Ren’s broken body back from the dying planet, if only to assure him a fate far worse than death?

The terrain is familiar, and Hux barely bothers to glance at his datapad as he heads away from that accursed temple. For once, he gives himself up to emotion and lets his thoughts consume him; who knows when he’ll be allowed to do this again. Ren should have to see this, to know exactly what effect he’s causing with his actions. Hux doesn’t buy for one minute the bullshit about not having a choice. There’s always a choice to be made. Sometimes it’s just harder than one would like to admit.

“ _Make her stop_ ,” Acerbyx hisses out of nowhere, and Hux nearly trips over a root in his astonishment. As he recovers, he realizes the raven daemon was addressing him, not Carmina. Leave it to Ren’s daemon to ignore the social niceties of human-daemon interactions.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your daemon is projecting at me. Extremely loudly. Make her stop,” says Acerbyx.

Hux rolls his eyes. “Have you tried asking her nicely?”

“Yes,” Acerbyx grits out. She sounds almost pained.

Hux straightens up and continues walking. _What are you showing her?_ he asks Carmina. He can feel her vindictive anger flowing through their connection.

_I was just informing her of some of our research, since she and Ren clearly haven’t bothered to do their own._ Carmina shows him what she’d been projecting at Acerbyx: the history of intercision, in all its brutal glory.

It’s coming back to Hux now, the brief research he’d done into the topic when investigating possible outcomes to prepare Stormtroopers for in case of capture by an enemy. He had never truly believed it would be a realistic circumstance; few beings in the galaxy would go so far as to cut a trooper away from their daemon, but lower magnitudes of daemon-torture were not unheard of. Interrogator’s daemons had been known to hold their prisoner’s daemons in their jaws, when size allowed for it, just tightly enough to provoke panic, or drag another daemon from their human to the point of pain. The technology required for intercision had been banned long ago, but rare forms of it- the guillotine, the knife, simple tearing by distance- persisted.

Hux’s research had been mainly theoretical, to satisfy an admittedly sick curiosity he’d felt. Such procedures seemed to have a long, if obscure, basis in history. However, the process apparently had little practical application outside of sadism, which disgusted him on a professional level as well as a visceral one. Pain for a purpose was often necessary; Hux had endured it himself on many an occasion in training. Sadistic practices like intercision had no place in Hux’s ordered world. To anyone who might point out Starkiller as hypocritical in this respect, Hux would merely remind them that the weapon’s entire purpose was to bring an end to wars, to unnecessary death and violence.

_Good girl, Mina. Keep it up._ If Hux couldn’t convince Ren to step down from this, perhaps some real-life examples and the cold facts of history could.

“Don’t encourage her!” Acerbyx hisses. Hux has never seen her so emotive, save for the time when he’d walked into one of Ren’s tantrums.

“Did you know, Acerbyx,” Carmina drawls nastily, “that a good eighty-five percent of intercision victims die almost instantly from shock post-procedure? And of those that survive the initial trauma, a further sixty percent die in the following days? Those that manage to survive longer were only able to do so by being immediately reunited with their severed daemons, though of course the connection could never be repaired. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“You don’t frighten me,” Acerbyx spits back.

“But you’ll never be able to rejoin Ren, will you? Not under Snoke’s control, caged in that asteroid complex of his. All underground, so cold. You’ll never feel the wind again.”

“That’s enough,” Ren growls finally, picking up the pace to stride past Hux and continue on ahead. Fine, then. He can go where he pleases. Hux is the one with the directions back to camp.

It’s barely a minute before he hears the telltale buzz of Ren’s unstable saber, cutting a violent swathe through the forest. Hux wonders if what Carmina said might have been too much.

_I don’t regret it_ , she responds. _If I need to scare them straight, then that’s what I’ll do. They’re beyond reason, that’s clear now. How could they do this, Hux?_ There’s a note of despair in her voice that she tries to hide from him.

After another mile, the noises from up ahead cease. Hux imagines they must be close to camp now: the pressure of the temple has lifted, and they’ve certainly been walking long enough.

He nearly walks directly into Ren, who has halted for no apparent reason to stare straight ahead. He’s raised his hood again to cast his face into shadow. Hux makes to pass him, but Ren stops him with a hand on his arm that he halfheartedly attempts to shake off.

“This is my master’s will, Hux. It will come to pass whether or not you like it. I would recommend that you not interfere.” His voice is monotone, as if he’s speaking in a trance.

At that, Hux steps away to put some space between them, lip curling. “Go ahead and ruin yourself, then. Clearly you’re beyond reason, and you won’t listen to anything I have to say. Keep on telling yourself you’re making some noble sacrifice for the greater good instead of blindly following the will of a mad old wizard. I know better than to try and stop you.”

Ren’s eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to say something in response. Hux is already pushing past him, making his way into the clearing where his troopers have been standing guard. They spot him from a distance and salute. Hux dismisses them as the major he’d left in charge approaches.

“No trouble here, sir. Glad to see you and Lord Ren made it back safely.” To his credit, the man doesn’t pose any further questions as to the real purpose of this whole trip. Hux supposes they’re used to operating on the wild whims of the Supreme Leader these days, entirely without explanation. He fights to keep back the spark of anger he feels at that thought.

“Lord Ren has retrieved what the Supreme Leader sent us here for. Call the troopers in and start boarding the ship.” Hux sighs. “I’m ready to get off this planet.”

When the shuttle takes off, he ignores the silent, black-draped shadow hovering at the edges of his field of vision.

~

After what seems like a particularly lengthy debriefing by the Supreme Leader, Hux returns to his own quarters. He supposes Ren must have delivered the severing knife to his master already, though he trusts the intercision hasn’t already occurred; there’s no way he could be Force-sensitive and not sense such a thing occurring in such close proximity. Besides, he’d seen Ren and Acerbyx leaving the Supreme Leader’s chambers, still apparently intact.

His own orders from Snoke had been frustratingly vague, as is becoming the custom now. Hux knows his crew is unhappy with the lack of progress they’re experiencing, locked as they are in orbit around Snoke’s planetoid. As he’d predicted, Snoke forbade the crew from projecting their coordinates to any suppliers, and so they remained behind schedule on all manners of repairs. The quick recovery he’d hoped for is slipping further and further away with every day they remain trapped here. It’s likely the Resistance is already building itself back up, while they twiddle their thumbs in the empty space of the deep Outer Rim. Yet Snoke shows no signs of concern, apparently preoccupied with the exciting prospect of inflicting a new kind of torture upon his pupil.

_When do you think it’ll happen?_ Carmina asks, as Hux lies prone in his bed, eyes locked emptily on the ceiling, unable once more to sleep. It’s past midnight now, but his mind refuses to settle. The ceiling provides no answers, as it has for the past few hours, and so he turns to his daemon instead.

_Soon, I imagine. He wouldn’t have sent Ren to retrieve that thing otherwise._

Carmina rustles herself atop the bedframe, discomfited. _We have to do something, Hux_ , she says finally.

Hux huffs a mirthless laugh. _Lord Ren has commanded us to not interfere._

_And since when have you ever taken orders from him?_

_I’ve never made a business of saving people from themselves, either,_ he retorts. It’s not the sort of thing he’d be particularly good at, and the costs usually far outweigh the benefits. Especially if said person does not want to be saved. Which is usually the case.

_You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let it happen,_ she admonishes. It strikes a nerve, as usual. Carmina’s comments are not so much pointed as laser-guided, seeking out every doubt clouding Hux’s mind and exposing them for the both of them to confront.

Hux rolls over, fuming as he turns his back on Carmina. _I’ve demolished planets, Mina. I gave the order, I drew the plans for the weapon itself. I’m responsible for the deaths of billions, and you’re telling me I won’t be able to_ live _with myself if I let one man go to his doom?_

_Ren and Acerbyx are a different case. You know that now more than ever. This is personal._

After what happened this afternoon, it really is difficult to argue with that. Hux recalls the baseless anger he’d felt, the betrayal, the sickness and dread in the pit of his stomach. Empathy doesn’t come naturally to him, and he’s certain that were it anyone else being severed, he’d feel only the requisite disgust, maybe fear, and little else. He can no longer ignore that this is, in fact, personal.

On top of that, Carmina doesn’t seem to be taking this news well. As a daemon, she’s supposedly more attuned to these mystical matters, Force or no Force. But there’s still too much risk involved in this, especially if it means directly contradicting Snoke’s orders.

Hux tells her as much. _We could be executed for treason if we interfere. We still haven’t redeemed ourselves from Starkiller. Hells, knowing the sadist Snoke is, maybe he’s just letting us live until we work up enough hope for him to crush completely._

_Oh please,_ Carmina sniffs derisively. _You’re going to make this about your career? And for the record, that’s wild speculation. Ren would tell us if Snoke was going to kill us._ She says it with an astonishing air of confidence that manages to irritate Hux further.

_Yes, I_ am _making this about my career, Mina, because I’ve worked too hard to throw it all away in one emotional decision. I’m not ruining our lives over one damaged man and his estranged daemon. What would we even do? Snoke is too powerful-_

Hux is interrupted with a bombardment of images, one after the other- the knife in Snoke’s cruel hand, turned on him instead of Ren, sawing away at the air between him and Carmina in short, violent strokes, the agony and violation, the years of togetherness being torn away before his eyes-

“Stop!”

It’s only when he’s hunched over a full minute later, head between his knees, that Hux realizes he’d spoken aloud.

_I’m sorry,_ comes his daemon’s pleading, soothing voice. _I only wanted you to understand. To see it the way that I do._

_I understand,_ he says, and it’s true this time. _I really do._

Another long minute passes. Hux uncurls slowly and leans against the headboard. Carmina hops down next to him, her proximity immensely comforting. All is forgiven between them, without a word.

_We’ll talk to them again first thing in the morning,_ he decides. _I didn’t really think he was beyond hope, anyway. I just told him that to piss him off._

Carmina chuckles without much humor. _I thought that might have been the case._

Sleep will not come easily tonight, not with Hux’s memories of the day and even more nightmarish projections of the future flashing through his head. The anxiety won’t go away unless he does something about it; Hux knows this from experience. He settles for brainstorming in preparation for the inevitable confrontation with Ren. It’s difficult, to find the words that could turn the mind of a man notably unswayed by reason.

_Let me help_ , Carmina murmurs into his mind. Hux is glad beyond expression for her aid. All their best ideas have been a joint venture, a combination of the best parts of both of them.

_We can do this, Hux. You’re clever, more persuasive than you know. You’ve convinced whole planets to follow your will. You can handle Ren._

Hux hopes desperately that she is right. He refuses to consider the alternative.


	8. Chapter 8

Hux rises early the next day, taking comfort in the familiar routines of the morning. As he dresses, he reviews his schedule for the day. All the while, his concern for Ren runs like background noise in his head. Hux will talk to him today, corner him as soon as possible, and he won’t leave until he’s certain Ren won’t do anything stupid in the meantime. That will have to alleviate the anxiety Ren has so thoughtlessly left him with.

It comes as a surprise when, a few hours later, near the end of gamma shift, he receives a summons from the Supreme Leader. Another meeting on the surface of the planetoid, it seems, as if the holoprojector wasn’t working just fine. Hux is beginning to think Snoke just gets a kick out of wasting his time on in-person intimidation attempts. Carmina ends her conversation with Lieutenant Mitaka’s daemon, a broad-eared bat who nestles habitually in Mitaka’s front pocket, and turns to Hux as they leave the bridge together.

_What do you suppose he’s summoning us for? We met with him just yesterday._

_Not sure_ , he replies, greeting a passing major with a nod. _Maybe it’s an emergency of some sort?_

 _Whatever it is, it can’t be good_ , his daemon replies darkly.

They take a small shuttle down to the planet’s surface, along with a few Stormtroopers on the way to their shift. The Order has been stuck here long enough that they might as well just set up shop on the planet itself, rather than waste fuel shuttling troopers and supplies back and forth. If it weren’t for Snoke’s obsession with privacy (and the planet’s own hostility to most life), Hux would have already suggested it.

The troopers guiltily cease their conversation when Hux steps onto the shuttle, their dog daemons straightening in his presence, heads held slightly higher. The ride down to the surface is made in awkward silence. Hux almost wishes there were a way to get the troopers to start talking again; at the very least, their chatter would help to assuage the inexorable anxiety that accompanies every meeting with the Supreme Leader these days. Things had been much simpler when he’d had nothing to hide from Snoke, when he’d displayed his pride and ambition without fear, and Snoke had still approved. Now his treasonous thoughts threaten to undermine him at every turn, and it’s only Ren’s mental training that provides him with a hint of reassurance against Snoke’s predations.

Once they touch down, the troopers head quickly to their stations to relieve their gamma-shift fellows, and Hux and Carmina are left alone at the entrance to Snoke’s complex. Hux finds himself yet unable to chase away his nagging anxiety, as though this summons is somehow different, more consequential than the rest.

“It’s quiet,” Carmina remarks, as they navigate the long and twisting tunnels leading to Snoke’s throne room. “I mean, it’s never very populated here, but you’d think there would be a bit more activity if this truly were an emergency.”

Hux can’t help but agree. “What do you think it could be, then?”

Unbidden, images rise to his mind of an execution, of Snoke’s long-awaited punishment of his failed general and daemon. Carmina isn’t trying to project, and she immediately attempts to shield him from her fear, all too late.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice bouncing off the stone walls of the tunnel in a way that detracts from the intended comfort. “It’s most likely some other inane task he’s just thought of sending us on. Nothing serious.”

All the same, Hux nearly yelps when a tall, black-cloaked figure steps out of some corridor to block his path.

“Ren,” he manages, once he’s certain his voice won’t squeak embarrassingly. “What are you doing here?”

Ren’s face looks even paler than usual, a stark contrast to the textured black fabric covering the rest of his body. His hands twitch and fidget by his sides, lips trembling ever so slightly. Hux considers trying to talk him down from whatever is troubling him, maybe taking the opportunity to get in some choice points about his poor decisions, but then Ren speaks.

“It’s happening today. Now.”

Hux’s heartbeat stutters. “What do you mean?” he hears himself saying, as if from afar, yearning to be proven wrong.

“Snoke is going to sever me. He wants you there, watching. That’s why he summoned you, Hux.” Ren’s clear brown eyes are wide with an animal fear, pupils dilated in panic. He’s breathing erratically through parted lips. Acerbyx perches stoically on his shoulder, silent as always.

“No,” says Hux, increasingly frantic, “no, it’s too soon, how could he- I didn’t have time-“

Ren reaches out, quick as a snake’s strike, and grasps Hux by the elbow, dragging him down the tunnel as his protests go unheard, or just unheeded. His mind reels with this revelation- everything is happening too fast, he’d expected to have at least a week to wear Ren down, and most of all he simply isn’t ready to lose Ren now, nor will he ever be. Hux is pulled into a narrow corridor, just a few meters away from the door to Snoke’s chamber.

“I need you to listen to me,” says Ren, voice low and quivering.

“No, _you_ need to listen to _me_ , Ren, I am not letting you do this!” He doesn’t care that he’s practically shouting now; Ren needs to hear him loud and clear.

“You promised you wouldn’t interfere,” Ren intones forcefully. “You told me just yesterday you’d leave me to my fate.”

“We didn’t mean it!” says Carmina, punctuated by an agitated flap of her wings. Hux starts at the sound of her voice- she almost never addresses humans instead of their daemons.

“Believe me when I say it is in both of your best interests to stand by and let this happen,” Ren replies. He doesn’t have to name the looming threat. Hux knows exactly who will punish him, should he get in the way of this. Snoke still intimidates him, but the idea of Ren being severed frightens him more, somehow.

“Ren, please.” Hux’s voice cracks. He’s been reduced to begging now, but he’s willing to put aside his pride for the moment. In truth, he’s ready to sacrifice much more for Ren’s sake.

Ren shakes his head slowly, dark curls swaying around his face. “I can’t back out now, Hux. This is my master’s will.”

Hux turns away, disgusted and terrified. It always comes back to Snoke and his fucking will. Ren’s hand still rests gently on his arm, but he can’t tear himself away.

“I can’t watch this,” he says quietly. There’s a buzzing sound in his ears; the world seems to tilt dangerously. It’s the panic, of course. “Snoke may be a sadist, but he’s not dragging me into this. There is no reason to have me here.”

He makes to turn away, to run from all this, but Ren is tugging him back, face stricken and hopeless.

“Please, Hux,” he whispers.

“What do you _want_ from me?” Hux spits. He doesn’t want to leave Ren like this, on such a sour note, when he knows this will be his last real memory of the man, but he can’t help himself. How ironic, that now Ren is so calm and resigned, and that Hux is the one unable to tamp down his anger.

“I can’t do this alone,” says Ren, eyes fixed unflinchingly upon Hux. “I’m so afraid. I don’t want to be in there with only him for company. It…it will be less painful if you are there. With me.”

Hux feels like the breath has been knocked cleanly out of his lungs. He gazes up at Ren’s young face, so innocent-looking, a lamb called to slaughter. A prisoner of his own master’s will. Ren’s honestly strikes at a place deep within him, a shared loneliness between them, never before acknowledged.

“Alright,” he says at last. “I’ll do it.”

Ren gives a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Hux.”

 _Hux_ , Carmina whimpers into his mind. He’s not even sure what she’s asking of him; the single word is more emotion than message. She doesn’t want this. The more Hux thinks about it, he’s convinced that none of them really do. Not him, not Carmina, not Ren, not even Acerbyx. For whose daemon could truly hate them so much they’d take intercision over continued life together? No person could be so monstrous to be tied to. Especially not Ren.

Soon, they stand before the heavy stone doors to Snoke’s throne room. Hux wonders if the Supreme Leader had listened in on their conversation, if he’d heard his pupil’s confession of weakness, or Hux’s condemnation. He supposes it doesn’t really matter now.

 _I’m sorry, Hux_. Ren speaks directly into his mind, his voice thick with emotion. His hand brushes against Hux’s, squeezes it, in one last taste of comfort.

 _Don’t apologize to me_ , Hux sends back. The doors open before them, and the two men enter, daemons close at hand.

Snoke reclines in his throne, watching Hux and Ren approach. Hux feels sickened just looking at him. As if in response to that thought, Snoke’s wide mouth twists in amusement.

“General,” he says, not bothering to rise until Hux stands directly before him. Even wizened as he is, Snoke towers over both of them, without the aid of a holoprojector. “I am glad to see you could make it.”

Hux curls his fingers against his palms, pressing his nails into the soft leather. Snoke is mocking him, but he refuses to rise to the bait.

“The First Order awaits your command, Supreme Leader,” he says stiffly. The words sound scripted, but they’re all he can manage at the moment.

“I believe Lord Ren has already informed you of why you are here.”

Hux nods jerkily and does not look at Ren, trembling beside him.

“You will witness here the power of the Dark Side, General,” says Snoke, sweeping away to reach for something on a carved stone table beside his throne. A lump rises in Hux’s throat: he knows exactly what Snoke is about to pick up in his bony hands.

“Kylo Ren has served me for many years, but he is still, in some respects, _lacking_.” Snoke speaks as if Ren isn’t right there beside Hux, eyes fixed ahead, looking as though he’s somewhere far away in his mind. “This final step of his training will forge him into the weapon he was born to be. He will serve the Dark without the weaknesses that tempted his grandfather. You would be wise to watch, and learn.”

The blade of the knife glimmers viciously in the low light of the room. As Hux watches, Snoke takes the dangling wires in his hand and loops them together. They connect in obscure and patternless ways, forming a loose circlet around Snoke’s wrist. As the circuit is completed, an audible hum fills the room. The sound is not repeating or predictable, like the comforting lull of the Finalizer’s engines, but erratic and staticky. Disordered by definition, by its intent.

Hux chances a glance at Ren and sees his red mouth fall open, sees how his nostrils flare and his teeth chatter. Ren’s head turns a fraction, and both he and Acerbyx meet Hux’s gaze. This is all it takes, that one simple look, for Hux to step protectively in front of Ren and address the Supreme Leader.

“Supreme Leader,” he starts, willing his voice not to falter, “I have some objections about this course of action.”

 _Yes, Hux, keep going_ , Carmina encourages, her emphatic mind-voice nearly drowning out Ren’s concurrent response of _What do you think you’re doing?_

“You object?” says Snoke, his words dripping with venom and the promise of pain.

Adrenaline pumps through Hux as he continues, ignoring Ren’s alarm. “I have researched the practice of intercision extensively and found it to be quite irrelevant to the goal of instilling obedience. Of those that survived the procedure, most were too traumatized to enter into any sort of combat. They were suitable only for grunt work, mindless jobs. Such conditions would not be suitable for any sort of soldier. For this reason I rejected the idea for the Stormtrooper program and chose to find different methods of ensuring that the troopers would obey orders unquestioningly.”

He’s lying, he’d never ever considered intercision even as a form of punishment, but Snoke is not human and cannot understand his true reservations. Recalling the words he and Carmina had carefully chosen and practiced, Hux continues, throwing caution to the wind.

“It is my belief that this procedure will not stabilize Lord Ren, nor will it strengthen him in the Force. All studies have shown that those who are severed are scarcely functional-“

“And what might you know of the Force, General?” Snoke drawls, cutting him off. Hux wills his feet to remain planted and firm, despite how his legs seem to want to buckle in Snoke’s overwhelming presence. He’s reminded of the pressure he’d felt on the planet that housed that accursed Sith temple.

Silence falls. Snoke takes one step, then another, until he looms over Hux once more.

“Do you think that your pathetic, puny amount of Force sensitivity has suddenly made you an expert on the topic?” Hux holds Snoke’s gaze unblinkingly as he tries to remember Ren’s instructions. Clear your mind, hide your secrets, let him think he’s seen it all-

“And still you hope to protect your traitorous mind from me, with whatever scraps of instruction my pupil has unwisely bestowed you with.”

Behind him, Ren gasps aloud.

“You disappoint me, General Hux. Truly, I had expected better from you, a man with such ambition, such drive.” Snoke fingers the knife. “Yet even ambition, when it grows too high, must be pruned appropriately. Tell me, General, how long have you been plotting your insurrection?”

Hux’s heart stops. It seems an age before it beats again. “I-I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to-“

“Silence!” Snoke hisses, long teeth bared. “Your feeble aspirations no longer amuse me. After all I have done for the First Order, all I have given you, you still hope to depose me. I should have expected as much from the son of Brendol Hux.”

Hux finds himself at a loss for words. He stares, wide-eyed, up at Snoke as Carmina clutches at his shoulder, terrified beyond thought.

“Your productivity, General, is lessened as of late.” Snoke turns to pace a few steps. “The First Order suffers for your lack of focus. Your childish bond with your daemon weakens you, yet you are blind to it. I believe your attention has been directed…elsewhere.”

Snoke’s gaze settles on Ren. _He knows_ , Carmina whispers. _He’s known how we feel about them all along._

“Acerbyx!” Snoke calls, his voice commanding. He holds out his hand, and after a moment’s pause, the raven daemon flaps off of Ren’s shoulder and lands on Snoke’s instead. Carmina chokes back a shocked cry.

“Perhaps, General,” says Snoke, “it is your loyalty that could be improved. Did you think I called you here simply to have you watch the intercision?”

Hux tries to open his mouth in response but finds that his jaw is locked shut, by a will other than his own. His arms, his legs, every part of him has been frozen firmly in place. He can still hear Carmina, can feel her panic, and knows that she too has been rendered completely immobile by Snoke’s control of the Force. If Ren notices, he does nothing about it.

“You misunderstood my intentions entirely.” Snoke saunters back towards Hux, his pale eyes jeering. “I wanted to see how far your attachment to Kylo Ren would extend. Would you be willing to defy me, in order to save him? I had hoped this would not be the case. You have, after all, proved useful.”

The knife flicks out from Snoke’s palm, the weighted wires clinking together and buzzing unpleasantly, recalling some half-forgotten nightmare. “Sadly, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when it would have benefited you. And now you will know the consequences of making me your enemy.” His other hand lifts, extends towards Carmina.

“Don’t touch her!” Ren howls. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux can see him moving towards Snoke, but with a careless flick of his hand, Snoke immobilizes him too. His last hope gone, Hux has no choice but to watch Snoke advance slowly.

“You and Kylo Ren will learn the same lesson today. And after I am done with you, you will both be improved. No more foolish human emotions ruling your every decision. No more ridiculous consulting of your daemons, like a child relying on a pet for guidance. You, General Hux, will soon serve the First Order with a single-minded devotion, without precious Carmina by your side.”

Snoke lifts the knife, which sparks and buzzes with power, and extends it toward the air between Carmina and Hux. “You should have never doubted the Force, General.”

In one swift motion, Acerbyx turns on Snoke’s shoulder and buries her long beak in his right eye socket.

Time seems to stop. With a twist of her head, the eye pops out, and for a second, all is still.

In what are likely to be the last seconds of Hux’s life, he recalls some useless piece of folklore involving ravens, gallows, and hanged men.

Snoke’s agonized screech fills the air with a sound that resonates like a sonic boom, and Hux goes flying backwards, landing with a crack against a tall pillar. Pieces of debris zoom past him, and he recognizes the sound of solid rock cracking. Hux can’t quite make out the scene: his vision has gone blurry, and Snoke’s screaming seems to warp reality itself, but he can make out one familiar figure slowly rising from the ground, drawing nearer to Snoke in the midst of all the chaos.

And then there is a burst of red light that hurts Hux’s retinas, and he can just barely make out a wobbling crimson beam pierced through the taller figure’s chest.

Snoke’s body arcs where it is impaled on Ren’s lightsaber. The destruction halts instantly. Ren’s face is contorted, almost unrecognizable in its fury.

He slashes upward, and Snoke’s cleaved body falls lifeless to the ground. A black form flaps away from it as the corpse crumples.

“ _Ren_ ,” says Hux, not sure whether he’s speaking aloud or internally, but none of that matters, all that matters is peeling himself off the wall and staggering over to Ren, who has fallen to his knees. Carmina, whose presence he can feel acutely, who is still blessedly and eternally connected to him, flaps unsteadily to his side.

The lightsaber still buzzes as Hux approaches. There’s blood dripping into his line of sight from a cut above his eye, but Ren’s form is clearer now, no longer fuzzy at the edges. There’s a gleaming wetness upon his face.

Hux kneels beside him, murmuring senselessly. “Ren, oh Ren, _Kylo_.”

Ren is shaking violently, his daemon settled on the floor not far away. Hux is struck with the fear that he’ll turn the lightsaber on himself next, and so he reaches for Ren’s right hand, covering it with his own as he thumbs the activation button.

 The saber powers down. Ren’s gaze is unseeing; he looks through the body on the floor, trapped in some mental torment Hux cannot begin to imagine. It only seems appropriate to take Ren’s tear-streaked face in his hands, to turn his eyes from Snoke’s corpse.

Ren’s mouth quivers as he speaks, in a wrecked voice. “I- I killed him, I killed my master-“

“You saved me, Ren,” Hux whispers. “Kylo, Kylo, you’re free.”

Ren blinks quickly, dark eyelashes fluttering. He’s looking at Hux like he’s the only thing in the galaxy, in the whole universe, of any importance, and because Hux has been saved, because Ren still needs saving, Hux leans in and kisses his wet mouth.

It occurs to him now how very long he has been waiting for this.

It’s only the thundering crash of a pillar crumbling down that forces Hux to end the kiss. Several feet away from them, a chasm opens up in the tiled floor. The chamber is coming to pieces.

Hux takes Ren by the hand, yanks him to his feet. Ren is still giving him that shell-shocked look, so Hux tugs him along until he begins to run alongside him, slowly growing aware of the situation.

“We have to get out,” Hux shouts over the deafening crash of rock against rock. “This whole place is self-destructing, Snoke must have tied it to his life force or something. Hurry, Ren, we need to run!”

Above them, Carmina darts through the air, skillfully avoiding chunks of flying debris. Acerbyx is by her side, then ahead of her, navigating the tunnels as Ren and Hux pull up the rear.

A large piece of the ceiling breaks free and plummets to the ground, blocking their path completely, but Ren stretches out his hand, then curls it into a fist, and the rock pulverizes into a thousand tiny pieces. Hux hops over the rubble, dragging Ren with him as they race toward the light.

He doesn’t let go of Ren’s hand until they’re free of the complex, barely making it out before the entrance tunnel gives one final shudder and collapses. They stand in the cool air, breathing hard and blinking the dim sun out of their eyes. Carmina settles on Hux’s shoulder as Acerbyx takes her place on Ren’s arm. The two stare at each other, man and daemon, each equally astounded by the other. It is the first time Hux has seen them look at each other with anything beyond vague contempt.

“Leave it to Snoke to try to ensure that anyone who killed him wouldn’t make it out alive,” Hux pants, suddenly exhausted.

“What do we do now?” Ren asks, his voice small and despondent. Hux decides right then and there that he is not going to let Ren out of his sight for the remainder of the day, as long as he can manage.

“First, we get off this planet. I have a plan for what we can do after that.”

“You do?” Ren sounds hopeful.

“Yes. I’ll explain it later- for now, just trust me.”

The newly-freed knight nods slowly in acceptance. He follows close behind Hux as they leave Snoke’s fortress for the last time, heading back towards the First Order base nearby.

~

“General Hux!” The trooper salutes as Hux draws closer. He’d like to be still holding Ren’s hand, as he thinks Ren could use some grounding human contact, but he can’t afford it in front of his troopers. Ren lifts his hood and ducks his head, hiding his reddened eyes and grimy face. Hux himself had wiped away the blood over his eye to the best of his ability, hoping it wouldn’t obviously stain his skin.

“Tell your squad to begin packing everything up here. The Supreme Leader has given us permission to leave the planet and move on,” Hux instructs him.

The trooper seems to perk up, though Hux can’t read his expression behind the mask. “Right away, sir. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Very good. Lord Ren and I must return to the _Finalizer_ immediately, but once all our personnel have been retrieved from the planet, we can go ahead and move on to our next destination.” As of now, Hux isn’t entirely sure where this next destination might be. He’ll figure that out later.

The trooper walks away with a slight spring in his step. “NR-squad, start disassembling our setup! General says we’re leaving the planet now!”

With Ren still hovering beside him, Hux commandeers a spare shuttle and taps in the _Finalizer_ ’s coordinates. He’s never been so relieved to return to his flagship. With only Ren and him ensconced within it, the shuttle lifts off, breaking the planet’s low atmosphere in seconds. Some tightly coiled fear in him finally comes loose. Snoke didn’t follow them out. No Force energy drags their shuttle back to the ground. Hux lets himself accept it, now, that Snoke is well and truly dead. He’s not one for superstition, but if anyone could come back from the dead through some arcane power, it would be the former Supreme Leader.

The severing knife is buried with him. This brings Hux an immeasurable relief.

The ride is short and easy, so Hux flips the switch to let the shuttle direct its own course and turns to Ren, who sits curled in upon himself on a bench soldered to the wall. He’s still shaking, but he seems more alert, like he’s a part of reality and not trapped inside his own mind.

“How are you doing?” Hux asks, approaching slowly so as not to spook him. Ren doesn’t flinch when he sits down next to him, which is a good sign. He’d lifted his hood again in the conversation with the trooper, but now it’s fallen, baring his dusty, tear-streaked face. His black robes hide the gore splattered sparsely on them, but just barely. Hux aches to wipe at Ren’s face with his thumb.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. It seems honest. “How am I supposed to feel?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you,” says Hux. “You determine things for yourself now. You’re a free man, Ren.”

Ren turns to him, brown eyes filled with worry. “What if I don’t want to be free?”

“Why wouldn’t you want that?” Hux asks, astonished.

Ren bites at his lip, rolling it nervously between his teeth. “I’ve been in servitude, of one form or another, for two-thirds of my life. First Skywalker, then Snoke. He decided everything for me. In a way, that was the freedom I wanted. To never have to choose. I took orders, fulfilled them, and was praised for it.” He faces Hux. “I didn’t kill Snoke because I wanted freedom, or power. I killed him because of what he was going to do to you. I couldn’t accept that. If killing Han didn’t strengthen me, I knew letting him sever you wouldn’t do it, either.”

He lapses into silence after that. Hux doesn’t bother to ask him how he could accept his own intercision yet object to Hux’s. He feels as though he might already know the answer to that question.

“Do you want to hear my plan?” he asks, because he can’t really think of anything else to say. The growing silence has become oppressive.

“Please,” says Ren.

Hux straightens up, falling back into the role of strategist. He’s always been better at that than comforting people, anyway. It suits him, though this is the first time he’s regretted his deficiency in the latter skill. “No one else knows that Snoke is dead, apart from you and me. This is incredibly fortuitous for us. It allows me to claim that I am following Snoke’s orders, when really it’s my own will I am carrying out within the First Order. Think about it, Ren. No one else has spoken to him on that holochannel. No one even knows what he looks like, much less where to find him. Snoke’s own paranoia has worked against him, don’t you see?”

Ren chews at his lip again. “So you pretend that he’s alive, so that you can have full control over the First Order. Where do I come in?”

Hux pauses at that. He’d assumed Ren would be at his side in all of this, but perhaps that isn’t what Ren wants. “I suppose that’s up to you. You were never directly involved in the structure of the First Order; I had assumed that was the way you wanted it.” Ren’s nod tells him that, yes, it was. “I imagine now you’ll have the option to pursue Skywalker. It was Snoke who put you on my ship. You don’t have to be linked to the First Order, if you prefer otherwise,” he adds on, somewhat regretfully.

He can’t believe himself: only a month or so ago, he would have jumped at the chance to have Ren off the _Finalizer_ permanently, yet now he finds himself hoping against all odds that he’ll stay.

“I’m not really sure where I want to go from here. Like I said, I’m good at following orders. Not much else.” Ren’s head jerks up, like he’s suddenly remembered something. “Is this part of your plan to become Emperor, then?”

“It…could be,” he starts slowly. “I had wanted to ensure the First Order was completely recovered before I even started planning such a takeover. But Snoke’s death has provided some new possibilities. I can begin steering the First Order in a more appropriate direction, which will help me appear competent but not delusionally ambitious. In the meantime-“

“Can I work for you?” Ren blurts out. Whatever Hux had been about to say dies on his tongue.

“I think you’re a good leader, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself useful to you. I know you hated working with me in the past, but some things have changed, and I- I could take orders from you instead of being on my own,” Ren finishes, trailing off.

“Is that what you really want?” Hux manages.

“Yes,” says Ren, wrapping his arms around himself to hug his own torso. He’s never looked so small and uncertain. “I need a master, someone to tell me what to do. I’m not ready to be on my own. It may be a long time before I am. And…I really do believe in what you’re doing. The world you’re building. Snoke didn’t, but I do.”

Hux can scarcely process all of this information, freshly dumped on him. Carmina’s mind works faster than his, as it often does, and she speaks up in lieu of Hux.

“We won’t send you away. You have a home here, on the _Finalizer_.” Ren’s eyes widen at the word _home_. “Hux will find a position for you. Until then, rest and let us take care of what needs to be done.”


	9. Chapter 9

There are in fact a great number of things that need to done when they arrive back at the _Finalizer_. Hux breaks the news to the bridge crew as soon as he arrives, Ren close on his heels.

“General Hux,” Lieutant Kell starts, as her horned owl daemon swivers its head atop her shoulder. “What are the Supreme Leader’s orders?” Her voice carries a hint of resignation; Hux has had very little in the way of news for the past week.

“I’ve given the order to start drawing back our troopers and supplies from the surface,” says Hux. He turns to project his voice to the whole bridge. “Set a course for Gall. The Supreme Leader has given permission for us to leave the planet.”

A few people actually start clapping as the bridge bustles with newfound purpose. Normally Hux wouldn’t stand for such unprofessionalism, but he’ll allow it this time. Technicians hurry to plug in the coordinates for the planet, where they’ll be refueling and resupplying. Gall’s freshly renovated Imperial Enclave will serve as a safe haven, as other First Order ships arrive over time to join the _Finalizer_ and regroup.

For the next few hours, Hux loses himself in the fray, giving orders and approving request lists. Once they’re out of the range of Snoke’s planet, he oversees communications sent to their satellite vessels, strewn throughout the galaxy, most of whom have been in hiding since Starkiller was lost. Hux reassures their crews that, yes, it is safe to head to Gall and, no, the Resistance has not won the war (to those so far-flung from the Core Worlds that rumors had traveled faster than real news). They seem extremely glad to hear it.

All the while, he keeps an eye on Ren, who hangs at the borders of his vision, uncertain of his place.

Phasma appears in this time but keeps her conversation with him short, in respect of the other duties he currently faces. Her chrome armor is a welcome sight, as is Irnik trotting beside her, head held high.

“Good to have you back, General. My troopers are ready to assist with the resupplying. I must say, I’m glad that the necessary delays are now finished.” Her voice drawls slightly on the word _necessary_ , belying her resentment of Snoke’s orders.

“As am I, Captain. Please tell your troopers that I am grateful for their patience and as eager as they are to move forward.” Hux knows that stopping at Snoke’s planet hadn’t been a popular move, and he wants to distance himself from it as much as possible. The support of the troopers will eventually be essential if he is to assume a position of total authority over the First Order. He still hesitates to apply the word _Emperor_ to it- it seems so strange to have this goal at last within reach.

“Do you need something, Lord Ren?” Phasma addresses the shadow attached to the wall of the bridge, whom everyone had been giving a wide berth. Ren’s head jerks up; his chin had been tucked against his collarbone, still trying to hide his face.

“Lord Ren has received orders from the Supreme Leader that he needs to discuss with me as soon as possible,” Hux cuts in. “He’s to meet with me once I’m finished here.” Ren nods quickly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Very well,” says Phasma slowly. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help, General.” Irnik shoots a questioning look at Carmina but does not speak.

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll have orders for you when we arrive at Gall.” He dismisses her, wondering when he’s going to tell her about what happened on the planet. She’s been immensely loyal and is the only person, apart from Ren, aware of his scheme to take control of the First Order; she certainly deserves to know the real state of affairs.

The _Finalizer_ moves steadily towards the Zhar system, gradually accumulating an entourage of other First Order ships. Those that can fit in the hangar dock there, releasing their exhausted crews. They will be accommodated easily; since the Starkiller’s destruction, there have been an unnerving number of empty quarters, and it reassures Hux to see them gradually being filled again. Many officers have reports for him; he sets up appointments for these cases and sends them away to their ships to unstock.

It only occurs to him, when the next shift takes over, that Ren has been waiting for literal hours for him to finish up. Not only that, but he has been out of Hux’s sight, which directly contradicts the promise he’d made himself when Ren had been at his most vulnerable. Hux excuses himself briskly from an ongoing conversation and goes to address a commanding officer on the bridge.

“Can your shift manage without me for now?”

The officer seems surprised at being addressed. His lizard daemon scuttles from one shoulder to another as he composes himself to respond.

“Yes, sir, I think we should be set here.” Hux gives an approving nod and turns away, seeking out Ren. He isn’t hard to find: he’s in the exact same place Hux left him hours ago. Hux isn’t used to the feeling of guilt, at least on an interpersonal level, but it wells up in him all the same.

“Follow me, Lord Ren,” he instructs, turning down the hallway leading out from the bridge. Ren doesn’t hesitate to obey, which isn’t as gratifying as Hux would have thought. It’s more worrisome than anything else. Yet Ren lets himself draw nearer to Hux the further they go from the most populated areas of the ship. His hood is still up, Hux notes.

“My quarters are the other way,” says Ren when they take a turn down a quiet corridor.

“I know that,” Hux replies. “We’re going to mine.”

“But why?” Ren asks. Hux opens his mouth to respond, but Acerbyx cuts him off.

“It’s because he doesn’t trust us to be on our own. He thinks we’ll _do_ something to ourselves,” she says scathingly. “I’ll have you know we don’t need to be coddled, Hux.”

Hux suppresses a sigh, as does Carmina beside him. _Of course she’s back to her old ways. It’s not as though everything between them has been healed by what they did. It might take a long time before they can have a real relationship again_ , his daemon murmurs.

“Actually, Acerbyx, Hux and I were hoping to talk to both of you somewhere private. Is that alright with you?” she says aloud.

When Acerbyx doesn’t respond, Hux takes it as assent. It’s all he can do.

~

When they arrive at his quarters, Hux presses his thumb to the pad beside the door. As it slides open, he tries not to think about the fact that he has never before allowed someone into his rooms, not since he acquired his current rank. He’s never taken risks like this before and hopes desperately that it will all be worth it.

Ren steps inside, uncertain on his feet. He gazes around Hux’s quarters as the door shuts behind him. The lights illuminate automatically, throwing Ren’s face into bright detail. He squints.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long on the bridge,” says Hux, who is very much not used to apologizing. “I meant to get you out of there sooner, but I was needed in a number of capacities.”

“I understand,” says Ren. “You’re the General, after all.” An awkward silence falls.

“How are you doing now?” Hux asks. “And don’t tell me you don’t know again.”

Ren’s brow furrows. “I…I feel exhausted. I think. When Snoke died, it felt like some strength was drained from me. And I don’t know if it will come back. That worries me,” he confesses.

Hux tries not to let his concern show on his face. It would truly be like Snoke, to not only destroy his own complex in an attempt to bring down his murderer, but to also rip something of Ren away in his last moments, out of pure vindictiveness. He hopes that isn’t the case, and that Ren is just traumatized and not permanently hindered.

“You should get some rest,” he tells Ren. “Use my refresher to clean up, now that we’re here.”

Ren scoffs. “Acerbyx was right; you really did bring me here to stand guard over me. I don’t need it, you know.”

“What if I just wanted you nearby? Would you accept that as a valid reason to bring you here?” He’s aware of how needy this sounds the moment it’s out of his mouth, but Ren doesn’t mock him for it. He just stands there, still looking confused and tired and lost.

“Look, just get in the ‘fresher. You’re covered in dust and sweat and- blood, it looks like, and you’ll feel better when you’re clean. I always do,” he adds on.

He points Ren in the direction of his refresher, and without a further word, Ren disappears inside, Acerbyx close behind. The door shuts behind them, and Hux breathes out a sigh of relief.

“That went decently,” says Carmina. “Though I don’t suppose we have a real reason for bringing them here, do we? Apart from our own gratification.”

“No, we do,” he contradicts her. “Keeping an eye on them now is the least we can do. Both of them saved our lives. I think this could be good for them, too, but leaving them alone to bicker and blame each other is the fastest way to destabilize them again.”

“I guess you’re right,” Carmina muses. “What a day it’s been, Hux.”

Hux sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, Carmina fluttering to rest beside him. “I can’t quite wrap my mind around it. It was only hours ago that we were preparing to see Ren and Acerbyx intercised. Now they’re intact, Snoke’s dead, and we’re in charge of the whole kriffing First Order in his stead. I don’t know whether to be pleased or frightened out of my mind.”

“I think a bit of both is a healthy response,” his daemon replies. “Things are going to be very different now. We can afford to lead the First Order in a new direction, without Snoke’s interference.”

Hux fights the urge to dig his nails into his palms. “Was his interference all bad, though? He always gave off the impression that his directions for our maneuvers were somehow preternatural, like he’d seen the future already through some vision and was directing us based on that. I suppose he could have been lying the whole time and just…making things up as he went along.”

Carmina chuckles at that. “Don’t we all. Whether or not he actually had Force-visions of some sort- and I can’t believe we have to take those seriously now- it was fairly clear that he never gave half a damn about the First Order. We suspected he didn’t, and Ren confirmed it on the shuttle as we were heading back. We were a means to some mysterious end for Snoke, nothing more. It wouldn’t have gone well, had it continued.”

Hux folds his hands in his lap, staring down at his shoes. “And now he’s dead, and we have…Ren. And Acerbyx. Though she doesn’t seem as enthusiastic about continuing to work with us.”

“Give her time. She’ll come around. I don’t think she’s used to admitting she needs any help, much less asking for it. She’s proud in a way that Ren isn’t.”

“You like that about her,” says Hux, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “How clever she is. How much she hides. You want to know her.”

Carmina sniffs and ruffles herself. “Not all of us are attracted to emotional whirlwinds with no sense of restraint. Speaking of which, should we check on them?”

“I don’t see why,” Hux reasons. “I’m not typically in favor of barging in on people while they’re washing up.”

“Yes,” Carmina says carefully, “but didn’t you leave your razor in there this morning?”

Hux freezes.

“I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t-“

He’s at the door of the ‘fresher in seconds, palming the button to open it. The shower is around the corner, where he can hear it still running. In front of him sits Acerbyx, perched on the lip of the sink, an inky contrast with the dull grey walls.

“He’s alright,” she says, in a quiet voice. “I know you were worried. I would tell you if he did anything stupid.”

“Oh,” says Hux, still gripping the sides of the doorway, and a wave of relief washes over him. This day has been a TIE-fighter ride of emotions.

“You want to talk,” states Acerbyx. She raises her glossy wings, and Hux steps aside as she flaps out of the ‘fresher and into his bedroom. “It’s okay. I’ve been much farther from him. He’s in his own world right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Snoke’s been in his head practically since birth. He’s never left completely, not like this. Kylo grew so used to his presence that his mind formed to accommodate Snoke at all times. Now, those spaces are left empty, and Kylo’s exploring them for the first time. It’s a lot for him to process.”

Hux is taken aback. “Snoke really had control over him for that long?”

Acerbyx nods her small head.

Hux sits back down on the bed. “I suppose that just makes it all the more impressive that the two of you were able to stand against him.”

“He always had more control over Kylo than me, regardless of what you saw. Snoke thought he could own me just by touching me. He never understood us daemons. He saw us as pets at best, parasites at worst. And Kylo practically worshipped him.” Acerbyx pauses. Carmina leans in slightly, hanging on to her every word.

“I know what you think about my relationship with him. You pity us. The two of you are so different from Kylo and I. But you have to understand…things weren’t always this way. Between me and him.” Her voice wavers, but she continues. “He was a clever boy, my Kylo. We used to get along so well, back when he was Ben. He’d laugh at my jokes and listen to my advice. We were close. But then he started listening to Snoke instead of me, and Snoke convinced him that I was holding him back.”

“Acerbyx,” Carmina whispers.

“I’m not saying I was dragged down this road against my will. I wanted Kylo to be strong with the Dark. I was frustrated with what we went through, when we were forced to be Jedi.”

Acerbyx lifts her head to look Hux and Carmina straight on. “But Snoke twisted him. He played with his mind like it was a toy, for his own amusement. By the time I realized what was happening, how we were being forced apart, Kylo was completely dependent on him. And he’d changed so much that I hardly recognized him anymore. I was angry with him. Disgusted by what he’d become.”

Hux recognizes something in her voice, the vulnerable edge to it. He’s heard it before, in a strange and forgotten nightmare he realizes she must have projected to him. A cry for help, a foreshadowing of what was to come. He recognizes now that Acerbyx was the one who had first reached out to him where Ren would not. The guilt of it floors him. If he’d given in to his reservations, if he hadn’t stepped in-

In the other room, Hux hears the ‘fresher shut off. He motions to Carmina to stay with Acerbyx as he quickly grabs an undershirt and briefs from his own drawers.

The door to the ‘fresher is still open as Hux heads over, clean clothing in hand.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he hears Acerbyx mutter regretfully to Carmina. “I don’t- I’ve never told anyone about me and Kylo, but I thought- I thought you’d want an explanation of some sort…”

“No, no, I appreciate it. Hux and I both do. Listen, I’ve been hoping to talk with you a bit more…”

Their conversation continues as Hux hesitantly pokes his head into the doorway to the ‘fresher. “Ren?”

“Yes?” comes the hesitant reply.

“I’m leaving some clean clothes for you here, on the sink. Your clothes are still all crusted with blood, you shouldn’t have to wear those.” He reaches out, stepping gingerly over the heap of stained black fabric on the ground, and places the shirt and briefs on the sink, careful not to turn his head to the side and risk seeing Ren undressed. His cheeks heat up at the thought, and he steps hastily back out of the doorway.

“There’s clean towels next to you.”

“…thank you,” says Ren. Hux steps away and rejoins the daemons in his bedroom.

“Did you actually give him your clothes?” Acerbyx quips. “He’s just going to stretch them out, you realize that?”

Hux flushes a deeper red. “He needed something clean to wear.”

“Well, far be it from me to interfere with your designs on him. I should’ve known you had ulterior motives for bringing us here.” Hux feels like he’s slowly growing used to Acerbyx’s brand of dry sarcasm.

Ren chooses that moment to step out of the ‘fresher, clothed in Hux’s First Order-standard undergarments, still scrubbing at his hair with a towel. Hux’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. He flattens his hands on his thighs where he sits, trying to curb the urge to reach out and touch. That’s not what Ren needs right now.

“Do you have anything more substantial for me to wear?” Ren asks, some of his old confidence back in his voice. Hux thinks, suddenly, of the mask Ren used to wear, concealing his every weakness. “I need to get back to my rooms, if we’re done here.”

Acerbyx looks guiltily down, avoiding Ren’s gaze. Hux should have figured this wouldn’t be easy.

“It’s late, Ren. You can stay the night here and head back in the morning.” It’s true; the hour is nearing standard midnight. This, however, does nothing to abate the flush creeping up his ears.

“That’s ridiculous. Either tell me your reasons for bringing me here or let me leave.” Ren’s gaze is hard.

“Kylo, I’m tired too. You know as well as I do that we won’t do well alone with each other. Let’s just stay the night here, alright?” Acerbyx pipes up. Hux hadn’t expected her to agree. Ren seems surprised to hear her speak as well.

“Don’t tell them that!” Ren hisses. “Why are you agreeing with him? What are you planning?”

“Ren,” Hux starts, and the man in his doorway turns to face him, still scowling. “I’m not about to leave you on your own after today. You saved my life. Let me do this for you.”

Ren twists his hands into his wet hair. “I don’t understand any of this. I told you I’d work for you. What more do you want?” He flinches away when Hux starts towards him. Hux stops, reassesses. Ren is clearly in a different state than the dazed, vulnerable one Hux had experienced earlier. Whatever headspace he’s shifted into is clearly not welcoming of sentiment, to say nothing of the new protectiveness Hux feels towards him.

“I’m going to use the refresher now, Ren. Decide on your own whether you’re staying or not.” He pushes past Ren to grab some clothes for himself and step into the smaller chamber.

_Hux, what are you doing?_ _We can’t leave them alone._

_I’m not about to force him to stay, either. He can decide for himself._ Despite how much he wishes he could make Ren stay, this is one choice Hux will not make for him.

With one lingering look back at Acerbyx, Carmina follows him into the refresher.

~

He allows himself the use of a real water shower this time, as Ren had done. It cleanses his skin, purifying the wound above his eye more gently than the stinging of a sonic shower. The dirt and grime of the day are washed away within minutes. Outside, Carmina perches on the towel rack, shifting nervously from one clawed foot to another.

For all the shower does to relax him, it unfortunately does nothing to stop his head from filling with thoughts of Kylo Ren.

Talking to him is an exercise in patience. Hux had thought he’d been rather clear when he’d kissed Ren in the crumbling ruins of Snoke’s complex, but Ren seems to have forgotten that part entirely. Maybe it’s something to do with the apparent new configuration of his brain after Snoke’s death. Hux remembers how unstable he’d been after killing Han Solo. He hurries to wash himself faster.

_Are they still here?_ He sends to Carmina.

_Yes, I can hear them outside. It sounds like they’re arguing, but more quietly than they usually do._

_Typical_ , he thinks, rinsing his hair out before shutting off the stream of water. Ren still being here has got to mean something, though perhaps he’s just stayed for the satisfaction of rejecting Hux.

He towels off and dresses quickly. The conversation from the other room has faded to an expectant silence.

The lights are off when he leaves the ‘fresher. The room is illuminated only by the beam of light coming through the ‘fresher door. Ren is stretched out on the far side of Hux’s bed, hands folded on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. The pose is so familiar to Hux after all his sleepless nights that he feels an instant pang of sympathy.

Hux hangs up his towel and walks slowly to the bed, half-expecting Ren to get up, laugh in his face, and leave. When that doesn’t happen, he sits down on the bed, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard.

“I’ll sleep on the ground,” says Ren.

“No, you won’t,” Hux replies. Neither one of them ends up moving. Carmina and Acerbyx perch side by side atop the rails of the bed’s headboard.

“What do you want from me?” Ren finally breaks the silence, and Hux turns to look at him.

“Nothing that I haven’t already asked for.”

“Don’t lie.” Ren pushes himself up on his side to glower at Hux. “I don’t want to read your mind, but I’ll do it if you keep this up.”

“ _Blast_ , Ren, what do you want me to say?” He’s frustrated with how badly this is going, how unwilling Ren is to see what’s being practically waved in front of his face. “You told me you’d continue working for the First Order. I told you I’d find a place for you. After the day’s many activities, I brought you back here because I feared Snoke’s death had done something to you, and I figured I owed it to you to make sure you were alright. That’s it. I’m not asking for anything else from you.”

“Then why are you doing all this?” Ren makes a helpless, exasperated gesture with his hands. “I don’t understand at all.”

“Why am I doing all what?” Whatever he’s trying to express clearly isn’t getting through to Ren, who seems to view the world through an entirely different filter than most other humans.

Maybe that’s the problem.

“Everything! You tried to stop Snoke from severing me, even though I told you to stay out of it. I explicitly warned you that it would be dangerous to go against him! And then you- you _kiss_ me for some reason and drag me out of there, when you could have just left me behind, and you tell me I have a _home_ here on the _Finalizer_ and you give me your clothes and a shower and-!” Ren growls and tugs at his hair, and Hux would be nervous if he weren’t so interested in what Ren is about to say. “Why do you give half a damn what happens to me? You were so angry at me when I went to retrieve that knife, and I still don’t know why! What business is it of yours whether I’m whole or severed?”

In the sliver of light from the doorway, Ren’s face is illuminated: his wide and questioning eyes, his parted lips. His large hands are still outstretched, palms up, in the space between them, which has grown smaller during his spontaneous rant.

“Kylo,” Hux breathes.

“Don’t.” Ren’s dark brows draw together. “Don’t say my name like that, I don’t _understand_ -“

Hux reaches out and takes his hands, hearing Ren draw in a quick breath.

_Hux, you should let him-_

_I know, I’m going to try. You really do have the best ideas._

“Ren, I need you to read my mind,” Hux says, daring Ren to break eye contact first.

“What- no, I’m not doing that, I want you to tell me yourself-,” Ren protests, trying to twist away, but Hux keeps a firm grasp on his hands and stares him down.

“Ren, trust me. The only way you’ll ever understand is if you’re in my mind, not your own.” Because it’s not just Hux’s ineptitude with words that’s holding them back, it’s Ren’s own perceptions of Hux and of himself, twisted by Snoke over the years, that make this so difficult. Hux wants to slap himself for not having realized it sooner. Ren’s brain doesn’t work like other peoples’. Neither does Hux’s. It’s up to the both of them to bridge the gap, to determine once for all if they really do share something invaluable and innate.

Ren looks up at the bedrail, where Acerbyx perches. The two share a long look before Ren turns back to Hux, who still clutches his hands.

“Alright,” he says. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Hux closes his eyes and prepares what he wants to show Ren. The relief he’d felt when he’d found Ren alive in the snow, the protectiveness he’d developed, the sense of kinship that had sprung up so naturally during their Force training sessions together. That peaceful moment on the mountain, with their daemons in the air together. How he’d known from then on that he wanted Ren as a fixture in his life, a steady presence by his side and in his mind. That kiss, as Snoke’s chamber crumbled around them, cementing something real and true.

Hux gathers up all these emotions and memories and _pushes_ outward, to the front of his cortex, to Ren who hovers on the edges of his consciousness, waiting.

He hears Ren’s quiet gasp, and smiles, presses their foreheads together as he continues to show Ren his side of the story, all that Ren had missed. It’s a feeling he’s only ever shared before with Carmina: being understood, truly, in a way that no other human ever has. He feels Ren receiving, processing, hungry for more. Hux doesn’t want it to end. He knows he can’t stay connected to Ren like this forever, and yet, it’s what he wants, suddenly and acutely.

And then, when it’s inevitably over, and he feels Ren withdrawing from his mind, he opens his eyes.

“Oh,” says Ren. Something warm grows in Hux’s chest, expanding by the moment.

“Do you understand now?” he asks.

Ren responds by burying his head against Hux’s chest and shuddering. _I’ll take that for an answer_ , he thinks, stroking Ren’s damp hair in careful adoration.

Carmina takes this as her cue to lean over and begin preening Acerbyx, who gives a low caw of surprise. Hux looks up to see her nibbling lightly at the raven’s neck ruff. He’s never seen her do this before, not to any daemon.

Ren mumbles something against his chest, drawing his attention back. “What was that?”

“I said it feels good,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed, the long scar across his face softened by the low light. Hux is more than content to stay like this with him for the rest of the night.

“No one’s ever done this for you?” he hears Carmina ask.

“No one’s ever gotten close enough. Except Snoke, but I don’t count him,” comes Acerbyx’s reply.

“I meant what I said.” Ren’s lips move against his chest. “I want to stay here, on the _Finalizer_. With you. Protecting you, and what you want. I realized that, after today. How much I want to keep you safe. Is that strange?”

Hux tucks his chin against the top of Ren’s head. “Not at all. That’s what I wanted, too. To protect you.”

Ren hums quietly. “Yes. I think I understand that now.” He pauses, presses himself even closer. “But there’s still lots of things that I don’t understand, things that Snoke didn’t want me knowing about. Like this,” Ren says, trailing his fingers down Hux’s arm. He shivers. “But you’ll have to be patient with me. There’s so much I need to learn.”

“I can do that,” says Hux. He takes Ren’s chin and tilts his face up, bringing their lips together for the second time that day. Already, it feels like something he could become used to very easily.

“Bodyguard,” says Ren against his mouth. Hux wonders what he’s talking about before he continues. “That’s what you imagine me as, in your future. Someone to stay by your side and carry out your orders. But more than that,” he says, and Hux feels the hesitant tendrils of Ren’s mind brushing against his. “Someone you trust. Someone to live with you. A lover.” He sounds as if he’s trying out the word for the very first time, rolling it on his tongue to catch the taste of it.

Hux forces himself to give a reply. “Is that something you would want as well?” he asks, still a little afraid to hear the answer.

“Yes,” Ren murmurs. “I think I would like that. Less than total freedom, but more than servitude. I want that with you.”

_Oh._ This time, it’s his turn to be astonished. What follows is a deep and pure satisfaction, the kind he cannot recall last feeling. In fact, Hux imagines he’s never felt so calm in his life. With Ren’s body, warm and real, against him, he thinks he could truly sleep well for once.

Ren gasps, and Hux jerks back to full alertness. “What is it?” he cries out, imagining some mercenary of Snoke’s about to break down the door.

“I can see it. I can see it, Hux!”

“You can see what?”

Ren grips him by the upper arms, eyes bright and earnest. “Our future, Hux. It’s real, it will happen, I’ve seen it in a vision from the Force!”

“But we haven’t had those-“ Acerbyx starts, and Ren finishes her sentence.

“In ages, not since we started growing apart. You remember, Acerbyx, those dreams we had when we were young. They stopped happening when Snoke took me in, maybe even before that.” His voice trembles with excitement. “This means something, Acerbyx. This is good.”

_It’s incredible_ , comes Carmina’s surprised voice in his head. _They’re finally rebuilding their connection._

Hux presses kiss after kiss against the top of Ren’s head. “We’re going to be alright,” Ren keeps repeating. “We’re going to survive.”

For once, Hux finds it easy to put his trust in the Force, and in Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! This fic ended up being a lot longer than I'd really intended, but it was a lot of fun to write, especially all the daemon-y bits. I'm already working on more Kylux fics for the future, so stay tuned if you liked this one!  
> Points to anyone who guesses all the daemon-name puns.  
> As always, please feel free to chat me up on tumblr, either on my [ main ](%E2%80%9Dgiantsquidkid.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) or my [ art/writing blog ](%E2%80%9Dmoscca.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D). I'm a good bit more active on my main, but I usually check both.


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